


Flash Point

by DeGlace



Category: Naruto
Genre: Crack Fic, Crack Pairing, DeiIno, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Slow Burn, and that is indeed the case here, do not look too hard at the so-called "plot" you will only hurt yourself, reckless abuse of the author's favourite tropes, so many clichés and so few regrets, they both start off as assholes but you know the drill, which invariably means present-day NYC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeGlace/pseuds/DeGlace
Summary: High-flying lawyer Ino Yamanaka is scrambling complete this year’s mandatory pro bono service hours. She takes on what should’ve been a simple case – except, well, her client is Deidara. As it turns out, prissy ice queens and volatile ex-cons do not play nice. Deidara x Ino.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Deidara and Ino. Yes. Take the jump with me…
> 
> I have some thank-yous to give (or perhaps, blame to share) for this fic. It was Enecola’s gorgeous DeiIno art that served as the catalyst for me actually writing a story for a pairing that had always struck me as pretty but otherwise wasn’t on my writing list. This fic is, essentially, her fault. Thank you also to Renaerys for being a wild-eyed Ino fan with me, for the beta read, for her endless patience with my comma splices, and for generously lending me her real-world legal expertise for the lawyery bits.

  **Flash Point**  
_DANGER: EXPLOSION HAZARD.  
_ _No smoking, no open flames, no sparks._

"I have plausible deniability," said Deidara.

"You really don't," said Ino.

"I do, though."

"No. You don't. I have 200 stills of security footage showing you trying to break into the vault right here. Look. Number 142 shows you stacking up the C-4. Number 161 shows you running for cover. Number 185 captures the explosion. You do _not_ have plausible deniability."

Ino pulled out the three stills in question and laid them out in front of Deidara. Her flawless nails, painted a frosty white, caught the light as she tapped each photograph.

Everything about Ino was flawless, really: her elegant bun without a hair out of place; her white-blonde bangs sweeping just so over one eye; her crisp skirt suit; her immaculate Manolos.

This in stark contrast to the man slouching in the chair across from her who had, by all appearances, slept in the same clothes for three days straight, who had tried – and failed – to break into a bank, and who was now wasting her time in the most spectacular fashion. Presently, Deidara flipped through the photographs looking unconvinced, as though this (concrete, irrefutable) evidence of his guilt was, somehow, doubtful at best.

Everything about Ino was flawless, really – except for her temper. The heel of one of her Manolos tapped the floor once. The _clack_ resounded in the quiet interrogation room, crisp and expensive despite the cheap linoleum covering the floor.

This was the only display of impatience that Ino permitted herself to evince. Technically ( _sigh_ ) this man was a client of hers and so she had to choke back the unkind things that she wanted to say and behave herself, for the sake of her reputation and that of her firm. However, he wasn't a _paying_ client – so she didn't need to behave herself _that_ much, did she? Especially when he was so astonishingly stupid?

"This is a good shot," said Deidara. He held up number 185; the still of the explosion. "Can I have it?"

"No," said Ino.

"But I want it," said Deidara.

"No," said Ino.

"Just give me a copy, then."

"No."

Ino slipped photographs 142 and 161 back into their folder. She looked up to find Deidara holding number 185 to his chest like it was his firstborn child.

She held out her hand. "I need that."

Deidara stuffed the photo down the front of his shirt. "I created it and I'm keeping it."

Ino pressed her lips together. Deidara set his jaw – and in his eyes simmered a latent stubbornness that suggested that he was prepared to draw this disagreement out for a long time if she didn't let him have the stupid picture.

This was stupid. He was stupid. Everything was stupid.

Ino's heel tapped the floor again and, in the interests of moving on with her life, she made a strategic concession: "Fine. I'll get you a copy."

"Good," said Deidara, handing the picture back.

"Now you have to do me a favour and–"

"I plead the fifth," interrupted Deidara.

Ino heaved the tiniest, controlled little sigh. "You can't just repeat stuff you heard on Law and Order and hope that solves the problem."

"I'm not."

"Then why would you plead the fifth with me? I'm your lawyer. I'm here to help you."

"You're right," said Deidara. "Anyway, I wasn't at the bank."

"Um. There is conclusive evidence that you were."

"No, I wasn't," said Deidara. "I can prove it."

"How?"

"I have an alibi."

"An alibi."

"Yes."

Against her better judgement, because she had a stack of photos of Deidara's blond head in front of her as proof to the contrary, Ino humoured him. "Who is your alibi?"

"My cat."

So either he was fucking with her or she was dealing with an actual imbecile. Only the flare of Ino's nostrils marred her impeccable composure. She fantasized, briefly, about strangling him with his own hair.

Her eyes sought out the clock. She'd been here for an hour. In that hour, she had gotten precisely _nowhere_ with this man. Perhaps today was the day when she would, for the first time in her illustrious career, give up on a case and pass it on to some other schlub. There were a hundred other cases she could take on to complete her pro bono hours; she didn't have to tolerate this idiocy…

Then Ino stared at the scruffy man before her and found herself offended that a random thieving drifter like him would be the one to make her a quitter.

No. Ino was not a quitter. Ino was a winner.

"Hello…?" said Deidara. He slouched forward. "You know, I'm concerned. I need a lawyer who can focus."

"I am focused," said Ino. (And so she was: on not killing him.)

"Anyway, no one actually saw me," said Deidara with a shrug. "All security camera stuff? That shit was all doctored."

Ino felt her jaw tighten. "Just so that I'm sure I understand. You're claiming that all of this footage is fake?"

"Yeah. 'Cause I'm being framed. That's my story."

"A security guard saw you. In person. His statement is at tab 32."

Deidara flicked to tab 32 in the file, read the statement diagonally, and shook his head. "Nah. You can't believe anything this guy says."

"Why?"

"He's blind."

"Blind," repeated Ino.

"Yeah."

Ino indulged again in her strangulation fantasy – only this time, it lasted longer.

"Are you suggesting that Wells Fargo would hire a blind security guard? Are you…hearing yourself?"

"He _is_ blind, though," said Deidara. "Because he didn't see the beauty in my art."

"What art?"

"The explosion."

"That's…not art."

" _Not art?_ " repeated Deidara. He gave Ino a look of eminent disgust. "You know _nothing_."

Ino's glance flicked to the clock again to see how long she had left to endure this bullshit.

"I'm sorry, do you have somewhere more important to be?" asked Deidara, having noticed the glance.

"Yes," said Ino. "I'm meeting a client in an hour. An actual, paying client. So we're going to wrap this up now."

"Are we?" Deidara settled back into his chair like he had all the time in the world to waste and pinned Ino with a look of defiance.

"Yes," said Ino. She smiled a patient smile and thought violent thoughts. "Here's the thing. I'm taking this case. I'm doing it pro bono. That means free–"

"I know what it means."

"– _Free_ ," resumed Ino, "because you couldn't afford my services in your wildest dreams."

"They say the best things in life are free," said Deidara.

"They do–"

"But that's Hallmark bullshit," said Deidara. He looked Ino up and down. "In real life, you get what you pay for. Obviously, that's the case here."

Excuse me, what? Had this criminal smelly vagrant boy really just informed her that she was worthless?

Ino wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing that he was getting to her. " _Is_ it the case? I work at the top firm in the city and I am _good_ at what I do. You're lucky to have me."

"Meh."

"I'm here to _help_ you. Why are you being so uncooperative?"

Ino's question was blithely ignored as Deidara, picking at the file in front of him, caught sight of her name on one of the documents.

"…What did you say your name was again?" asked Deidara.

"Ino."

"Ino what?"

"Yamanaka."

"Yamanaka. Like the telecoms conglomerate?"

"No relation," lied Ino, just as she did whenever this question was posed. (Her father's multibillion dollar enterprise was a source of pride, of course – but Ino liked to get by on her own merits, not her father's name.)

Deidara sniffed. "K."

"Can we get back to the matter at hand, here? I can minimize your conviction, if you help me help you. So if you could just be _cooperative_ –"

"I don't wanna be helped by _you_."

Ino sat up straighter. _This guy…_

"May I ask why?"

Deidara sat up straighter too. "Because I don't like you–"

"I don't like you either," cut in Ino, because it seemed important to point out.

"–You come in here like you own the goddamn place, like you're doing me a favour by even _talking_ to me, and you expect me to be cooperative? While you look at me like I'm a complete waste of your time? _You,_ this – this overpaid, overdressed, uptight twit of a lawyer, with your prissy-ass _blouse_ and your _attitude_ and your _shoes–_ "

Deidara interrupted himself to look down at Ino's heels. "No, okay, the shoes are fine…"

This remark probably saved Deidara's life that day. But, nevertheless – he had hit a nerve. Ino was done playing nice. She let her veneer of cold professionalism slide to reveal the real Ino. You know the one. The Not a Nice Person Ino.

"Thank you," said Ino, glancing down at her Manolos. "Overdressed, though? As opposed to you…? What do they call your style these days? There's a name for it, that kind of _rustic_ look…"

"It's–"

"Oh, I remember," cut in Ino with a snap of her fingers. "Homeless chic."

"– _Bohemian_ ," said Deidara.

"The gloves, though? In July?"

"Fashion statement," said Deidara, pulling his black-gloved hands under the table.

Ino's attention shifted to the coat-thing that Deidara was wearing – a repurposed sack of some sort, she surmised, one which had at some point held root vegetables.

"That's a nice sack. Where did you find it?" asked Ino, in the way you ask a slow-witted child where they found a treasured piece of garbage.

"It's not a sack, it's a jacket, and I didn't find it, I _bought_ it."

"Right," said Ino. "You totally didn't dig it up from some barrel at a farmer's market."

Deidara gave Ino a dark look. Ino gave him a pitying smile because he was such a peasant.

"So let's recap. _I_ , the person who could get you out of five years of prison for breaking and entering and property damage and attempted theft, am worthless to _you_ because 'you get what you pay for' and you're not paying for me, and you hate everything about me because I dress nice, get paid nice, and actually do something with my hair–"

"I do _something_ with my hair; I've just been in a _cell_ for three days–"

"–And you're worthless to me," continued Ino, "because you're a failure of a petty criminal paying me nothing, whose case will bring me no prestige or connections that I could ever _possibly_ need to use. I can't even hate you; you're so far beneath my notice you don't register on my radar–"

"Jesus, you really think you're hot shit."

"I am," said Ino. "Anyway – _unfortunately_ for us, my bar association insists on me giving up hours of my _precious_ time on pro bono work every year for all sorts of fluffy bullshit reasons, you know – to give back to the community and help the underserved and the _poor_ …"

Ino drew a fingertip along her bangs and tucked them behind her ear so that both of her ice-blue eyes were visible to Deidara. "I'm going to take on your case and I'm going to win. And then I'll have finished my pro bono work for the year and you'll be home free, and we'll never have to talk to each other again. _Ever_. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true," said Deidara.

"It _is_ true. So, let's forge ahead here and see if we can accomplish this with minimal pain for either party. Now. To defend you, I need an angle from which I can explain your actions. Okay?"

Deidara did something with his shoulders that might've been a noncommittal shrug; Ino couldn't tell under the sack.

"You have three prior convictions," said Ino, flipping through her file. "For arson, arson, and…arson. A total of six years served. What's with the change in your M.O.? Why were you breaking into the bank? On whose orders?"

"I told you, art," said Deidara, with a kind of pained misunderstood look towards the ceiling.

"You'll have to explain this a _little_ bit further for me."

"Explain? To you? How?" asked Deidara, giving Ino a tremendously critical once-over. "I've never seen anyone less artistic in my life."

"Try," said Ino.

"No," said Deidara. "You wouldn't understand. Plebe."

He had the audacity to flip his hair at her.

She was going to kill him.

Ino unclenched her jaw enough to say, "You're not giving me much to work with."

"I plead insanity," said Deidara.

Ino closed her eyes. "You know what? Let's work with that."

VVV

That night, Ino met up with Sakura – doctor, rival, best friend forever – at their favourite lounge.

"So how was your week?" asked Sakura once they had found themselves a private corner in which to drink too many martinis.

"Kill me," said Ino.

"That bad?" said Sakura. She pushed her martini towards Ino. "Then you can have my olive."

"Thank you," said Ino, sliding the olive off of its cocktail stick and into her mouth. "You have no idea how much I deserve this."

Sakura smiled that smile that she smiled when Ino was being especially dramatic. "Tell me."

So Ino explained about this dumbass Deidara, the smelly criminal vagrant with the hair, and how she wasn't sure she could endure another meeting with him without throttling him, and plus he insulted her clothes and called her uptight (she wasn't uptight, was she? she was _cool_ and _fun_ , right?), and he was wearing a hideous jacket thing that made her want to puke just looking at it, and why did Ino have to deal with cretins like this, all she wanted to do was make millions defending corporations, not useless _poorsies_ ; her life was so hard…

"Well," said Sakura, "I pulled a Barbie out of a man's butt today."

This put things back into perspective for Ino.

"Okay," said Ino, pushing her martini glass towards Sakura. "You can have _my_ olive."


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later, Ino made her way to her second meeting with Deidara with a spring in her step because she was a genius.

"You look happy," said Deidara, watching Ino's jaunty approach.

"I am," said Ino, click-clacking her way to the table in her Louboutins.

"…Aren't you going to sit?" asked Deidara when Ino began to shuffle some papers out of a file.

"That won't be necessary. This won't take very long."

"What won't take long?"

"I told you I'm hot shit," said Ino, "and it's true. I pulled some strings, called in some favours, and settled your case out of court. You get to pay a fine – twenty grand – and do 500 hours of community service, but other than that you're home free."

Deidara looked at her with disbelief. "I'm not going to prison?"

"No," said Ino.

"Oh," said Deidara. There was a pause. "Thanks, I guess…"

"As soon as we sign these, we'll never have to see each other again."

Silence followed this news – _excellent_ news for the two of them – so why the hell wasn't Deidara sounding happier? Ino looked up and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no," said Deidara. "This is about to get awkward."

Ino rooted around her purse for a pen. "Hm? Awkward? Why?"

"Just…awkward," said Deidara. "You know, you lied to me. I'm hurt."

"I did…?"

"About who you are. You're not just _a_ Yamanaka, you're one of _the_ Yamanakas."

"Oh, that. You found me out. Congrats on your ability to Google me, or whatever…is there a problem?"

"No, it's not a problem," said Deidara. "It's actually more of a _solution._ "

Ino was now initialing a handful of pages and only half-listening. "Mm? Solution to what?"

"Well. I was trying to get into that bank because I owe a lot of money to someone dangerous, and I was getting kinda desperate…"

"Is that so?" said Ino absently. "Well, you're going to have to find some other way to repay them. Preferably legal. Here, initial these for me; it'll be faster if we do it together…"

Deidara signed the pages that had been stacked in front of him, his handcuffs jangling against the table. There was something odd in the way he gripped the pen, Ino noticed in passing – but then, he was a leftie, and still wearing those worn black corduroy gloves, and also fettered by the cuffs, so she didn't give it more notice than that.

"So once I sign this stuff, I'm free to go?" asked Deidara.

"Yes."

"So no one here will kick up a fuss if I leave."

"No."

"Cool," said Deidara. "Hey, so – general question…"

"What?"

"How much do you think your father would pay to get you back safe and sound?"

"…What?"

"Like a million? Five million?"

Ino looked up from her papers and blinked.

"Hypothetically," said Deidara.

"I'm not sure I understand the question," said Ino. "Are you…threatening to hold me for ransom?"

"Nah…"

"Good. Now stop asking stupid questions and sign this so we can move on…"

"…It's not a threat," said Deidara as he signed the final document. "It's, like, happening. Right now."

Someone knocked on the door of the interrogation room. As Ino reached for the handle, the door was slammed open almost in her face.

"Christ – can't you be more careful?" she said to the police officer who had just walked in. "You almost hit me…"

The officer pushed past her without a word of apology.

"What are you–? What's going on?" asked Ino.

"Nothing to worry about," said the officer. "I'm here to take this guy back to his cell."

"I have fifty-five more minutes with my _client_ , actually – and he's not going back to his cell, after–"

"I've got orders," said the officer.

"Orders…?" Ino gave the officer a good look. Red hair peeked out from under his cap. His face was unfamiliar to her. "That isn't how this works. Are you new here? I haven't seen you around before…"

"Yeah, I'm new here," said the officer with a little smirk.

And then Ino felt cold metal against her neck: the chain of a pair of handcuffs being wrapped around her from behind.

"Sleepy time," said Deidara's voice from behind her as the chain was squeezed across her throat.

Ino had time to swear and dig her nails into black corduroy before her vision began to tunnel.

And then things went very quiet and very dark.

VVV

When Ino came to, the world was a fuzzy and out of focus place, except for an ugly car door handle in her face.

"Ew," said Ino groggily. "Why am I in a Prius? I can't be seen in a _Prius_ …"

"Hey, man, don't hate my ride."

"But it's a _Prius…_ "

"Last time I tried to hotwire a Mercedes, it didn't go so well…"

"Hotwire a…?"

Ino shook her head and tried to remember what sequence of events had led to her being tied up in someone's back seat, trundling along in NYC traffic, discussing car theft. Something about that idiot Deidara, something about the red headed rude-ass police officer, and something involving her asphyxiation by handcuffs…

From where she was tied up and slung across the back seat, she could see black gloves on the steering wheel – and the back of Deidara's head.

Oh. _Oh._

The shriek that followed Ino's sudden recollection was piercing enough to make the windows quiver.

"You _abducted_ me?!"

"Ow, Jesus, my _ears_ …"

"How _dare_ you–!"

"Stop _screeching_ …"

Ino strained at the zip tie looped around her wrists and then at the one that held her ankles together. When this proved fruitless, she shrieked again and kicked at the back of Deidara's seat for good measure. "I _helped_ you. Why would you do this? Are you _crazy_?"

"No," said Deidara. "Just desperate."

"What are you doing…? You're going to hold me for _ransom_? This is _ridiculous_. This is real life, you idiot – you aren't in a movie where this shit works out! The police are going to find me, my father is going to find me, and I will see to it that you're imprisoned for _life_ …"

"If I don't come up with the money within a week, I'm dead anyway," shrugged Deidara. "So – worth it."

"You're out of your _mind_ if you think this would ever work…"

"I'm kinda out of options, here," said Deidara. "And I'm not ready to die. So buckle up and shut up, _Ms. Yamanaka_ , 'cause you and me are going for a nice car ride, and then we're going to see how we can work this out with _minimal pain to either party_."

"Where are we going?"

"My place," said Deidara.

"What are…what are these things in the foot well?"

"Uh, don't touch them."

"Are they _bombs_?"

"…Also, don't light a cigarette or anything, okay?"

"Oh my _god_."

VVV

To be fair to the Prius, it had a decent sound system, one which was loud enough to drown out the rest of Ino's shrieks when Deidara turned it on. So Ino was forced to lie in the back seat in silence and contemplate her new life to the tune of _Chumbawumba_ – _Tub Thumpin_ '.

Obviously, this was going to be over in a few hours. Ino had already established that Deidara was an idiot. He was in no way equipped, physically or mentally, to keep her as a hostage. He had said himself that this was a desperate venture, so, consequently, he wasn't well prepared – he was just a petty thief, not an expert kidnapper. She would be fine. Her disappearance would be noticed within hours…

Um, no. No, not necessarily hours, realized Ino, because tonight – Friday night – was the night she was supposed to drive off to _Le Nordique_ _Spa_ for a three-day getaway weekend of mineral baths and facials and massages. A getaway that she had booked to congratulate herself on finally finishing up with that dumb pro bono client of hers.

A client who was _in the process of kidnapping her_.

So that hadn't worked out very well.

Ino bit her lip, thinking of the out-of-office message scheduled to go up at five p.m. on her emails and her conversations with her friends about this wonderful spa where there was no internet allowed and so they oughtn't expect her to be responsive because she was going to be getting pedicures in the sun and eating organic grapes that were probably going to be peeled for her by sexy masseurs and…

"Goddamn," said Ino to herself.

But it might be okay. It might be. Because her phone was in her purse, and her purse, which had been on her shoulder when Deidara had strangled her (the _asshole!_ ), was now, unless she was mistaken, smushed under her feet. (This was a tragedy in many ways, because it was her favourite Chanel tote, but Ino was willing to set that aside for now.)

Ino kicked off one of her heels and stuck her foot into her purse, rooting around for her phone with her toes. She could feel her notebook, her pens, her tubes of mascara and lipstick, her sunglasses, her wallet – but where was her goddamn phone?

At that moment, Chumbawumba was interrupted by the shrill strings of Vivaldi's _Spring_ emanating from somewhere in the front seat.

Which happened to be Ino's ring tone.

Which meant that Deidara had her phone up front.

"Sa-ku-ra Ha-ru-no," read Deidara as he muted the stereo and mercifully shut Chumbawumba up. "Friend of yours?"

"Yes," said Ino. "Pass it to me."

She saw Deidara roll his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Really. You think I'm gonna do that."

"You're an idiot, so it was worth a shot."

"I'm not the moron who got her ass kidnapped by an idiot."

This was a valid point, of course, so all Ino could say was, "Fuck you."

Vivaldi died off and was replaced by the beeps of incoming texts.

"Aw," said Deidara. "She says she hopes you have fun at the spa."

Ino made a sound of frustration. "Quit reading my texts."

Deidara lapsed into silence, which made Ino suspicious. "…What are you doing? Are you…texting her back?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you capitalize your I's? You probably capitalize your I's, you're the anal type…"

"Wh–? I'm not anal. Capitalizing isn't anal. Also, you shouldn't text and drive. Don't you know the rules? You're going to get pulled over." Ino paused. "On second thought, keep texting."

Another beep: another text from Sakura.

"Heh. She hopes you meet a cute boy," said Deidara. "I'll tell her you already have, yeah?"

"Don't you _dare_ ," hissed Ino.

"How do you spell _hunkalicious_?"

"You _ass!_ "

"Should I send her a selfie? I should send her a selfie."

"Pff. She'll know the minute you send it that something's up."

"Why?"

"Because I don't go for hippies." Ino paused again. "Actually. Yes. Send her a selfie."

In the rear-view mirror, Deidara's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You know, I don't think I will."

Ino's phone beeped again.

"She says ' _Be nice, the poor idiot has no idea what he's getting into_.'"

"Well, she's right about the idiot bit, at least," said Ino.

"I'm gonna send her like, three eggplants, and a heart, k?"

"They're _aubergines_ , and ew. You have _no_ class."

"So the baguette, then? That's classier, right? It's French."

"Jesus."

There was another beep. "She says, see you next week, Pig."

"Great," said Ino.

"Who's Pig?" asked Deidara.

"Not me," said Ino.

"It's you. Why are you Pig?"

"I'm not."

"But why are you, though?"

"Are we there yet? I need to pee."

"Almost," said Deidara. "Hold it in, Pig."

VVV

They drove on for what felt like another hour. Night was falling. From her position in the back seat, Ino could only make out the tops of the buildings around them – buildings that were looking progressively more dilapidated as they drove.

She didn't know where they were, but it definitely wasn't Manhattan any more.

"Finally," said Ino when the car stopped moving and she heard Deidara pull it into park.

"Yeah," said Deidara. "Longest drive of my life."

He turned to Ino and held up something black-grey in the growing shadows. "Now we're going to get out. And you're going to behave yourself. Because this is going to be pointed at your right kidney all the way upstairs. Yeah?"

Ino squinted in the dark and ruined the drama of the moment by saying, "But what is it?"

"A _gun_ ," said Deidara with a degree of peevishness. "Obviously."

"Is it real?"

"Of course it's real."

"Is it loaded?"

"Yes."

"Fine," sighed Ino.

Deidara got out of the car and pulled open the back door. As he snipped off the zip tie that held Ino's ankles together, he asked, "Why are you missing a shoe…?"

"It fell off," lied Ino.

"Where?"

"Down behind the seat somewhere. I don't know. I can't see anything; it's too dark – and there's bombs…"

"Ugh."

Ino felt Deidara's weight against her legs as he shuffled around the foot well among the bombs (oh my god? She was going to die) to find her shoe. He found it after a lot of swearing and groping in the dark and shoved it onto her foot.

Then he slid Ino out of the back seat by her ankles, which was without a doubt her most undignified exit from a vehicle to date.

Ino clambered shakily to her feet with much grousing and much clinging onto Deidara with her zip tied hands. "Ouch – ouch, ouch, _ouch_."

"What?"

"Pins and needles in my feet–"

Deidara looked towards the night sky. "Do you _ever_ stop complaining…?"

"It _hurts_ , you ass, you tied me too tight–"

"Whatever. Let's go. This way." Deidara wrapped an arm around Ino and something firm and cold was pressed against her right kidney, as previously promised.

Ino took a step in the direction that Deidara was steering her in on numb feet – and promptly collapsed onto her knees.

Deidara pulled her up with a sigh so lengthy that he might have been starting to doubt the soundness of this whole kidnapping enterprise. "Pathetic."

And Ino was most certainly doubting it, because when she had fallen down she had almost landed on a used needle lying in the gutter. Beside it were a few gooey condoms.

" _D_ _isgusting,_ " spat Ino.

"Oh my god, it's just a needle–"

"Just? A? Needle?" hissed Ino, clinging to Deidara's collar so that she wouldn't fall again. "And the condoms?! I almost just caught three kinds of AIDS…"

"Walk," said Deidara.

"I would if I could, like if I could still feel my _feet…_ "

Deidara shook his head and half-carried Ino to the ramshackle high-rise that was, presumably, his place.

"This looks like a crack house," said Ino, looking up at the building with its faded graffiti and its missing windows. "Is this a crack house?"

Deidara opened his mouth. Then he closed it without saying anything.

"It _is_ ," said Ino, staring at him with fresh horror. "Oh god."

"It's fine," said Deidara, steering her up the walkway.

Ino was stricken with sudden concern at the sight of a large sign posted by the city on the building's door. "But – but this place is _condemned_."

"We have a small rat problem…"

"Rats? What? _No_. You _live_ here?"

Deidara pushed her through the front door. "Yes. Get in. I don't need the whole neighbourhood seeing you, you stand out like a goddamn lighthouse around here…"

"I'm sorry I don't look enough like a _crack whore_ to fit into your nasty neighbourhood," snarked Ino as she was shoved into the musty darkness of the entrance hall.

"Elevator on the right."

"An elevator. In this half-collapsed building. _No._ There's no way this thing's still up to code…"

The gun barrel pressed into the base of Ino's spine did not respond to her valid safety concerns about the elevator.

Its rusted doors couldn't even open on their own: Deidara had to wedge his hand in and pull them apart.

"Oh god, I can't," said Ino, digging in her heels.

"You are," said Deidara.

"This thing is a deathtrap," said Ino, looking into the tiny elevator's smelly interior with horror.

She turned and tried to make a break for it on wobbly legs and Louboutins not conducive to sprinting.

Deidara snatched her around the waist and shoved her into the elevator. "Get _in_. I'm not carrying you and your weak ankles up fifteen flights of stairs."

Illumination within the elevator was provided by an ancient lightbulb, a valiant survivor of the 1990s that flickered with a faint orange light.

"Literally a coffin." said Ino as the doors creaked shut. "I'm going to die here."

"Quiet."

The elevator shook, heaved, and rattled its way up a few floors like a thing on its last legs.

"I don't feel good," said Ino.

"What?" Deidara did a double-take at her face. "…Why are you so sweaty?"

"I might have mild claustrophobia."

"You _might've_ mentioned this earlier…"

"I can usually keep it under control; it's not something I'm proud of…"

"You look like you're gonna hurl," said Deidara.

Ino swallowed hard. "Thinking about it."

"Face the corner. I don't need to see it. Jesus."

Ino faced the corner as instructed. "Hey, um?"

"What?"

"Is that a rat?"

"…Yes," said Deidara. "You can share your lunch with him."

"Oh my _god._ "

A rusty _ding_ announced their arrival on the fifteenth floor.

Deidara yanked the elevator doors open and Ino tumbled out, still in possession of her lunch, but it had been a near thing.

"Third door on the right," said Deidara. "Walk."

Ino made her way down the dim, dirty hallway for a few feet before coming to a sudden halt.

Deidara walked into her from behind and cussed into her bun. "For fuck's sake – what _now?_ "

"I – look – there are _bodies_ on the floor…"

"Just step over them."

"Are they _dead_?"

"No, just sleeping off a trip. Step over."

"If one of them grabs at me, I _will_ scream."

" _Go._ "

Ino's feet were beginning to regain sensation and her nausea was subsiding now that she was out of the elevator, so she was pleased to find she could step over the corpses without barfing on them or impaling them with a stiletto by accident.

Deidara reached past her to unlock his door. "Get in. Don't touch anything."

"I wasn't intending to," sniffed Ino. (As if she wanted to touch his gross possessions and catch some disease.)

He pushed the door open. Ino found herself staring at a bachelor pad that looked like a cross between an artist's studio and an explosives manufacturing facility. Canvasses of varying sizes leaned against the walls or were stacked up in piles, all featuring abstract art (aggressive swathes of colour, angry spatters of paint). Piled among the canvasses and paint cans were little boxes with blinky lights, bristling with wires, and grenades, and shells, and mortars, and other things that looked scary and explodey to Ino's untrained eyes. Tools and paint brushes were variously hung onto nails, stacked into messy piles, or scattered across the floor.

In one corner lay a bare mattress with a nest of blankets and clothes piled onto it. A makeshift kitchen stood beside it: a microwave, a mini-fridge, a table made of pallet wood, a sink.

A rat scurried past Ino's feet; she blanched.

"Christ. There's enough explosives here to blow up half the city. Are you actually a terrorist?"

"No," said Deidara. "I just make 'em and sell 'em."

"Is there a bathroom?"

"Yeah. At the back."

" _Finally…_ can you take this off?" asked Ino, holding up her zip tied hands.

Deidara did not seem convinced of the necessity of removing the zip tie.

"Can't you just–?" he said, making some motions towards his crotch.

"I'm a _girl_ ," said Ino. "In nylons and the world's tightest goddamn pencil skirt. I don't have a – a little hose to pull out or a fly to pull it out of…!"

"Fine," sighed Deidara. He pulled out a knife and sliced through the zip tie. "If you're still gonna puke, you better clean up after."

" _Clean up?_ " said Ino, having entered into the bathroom and found it just as hideously cluttered as the rest of the place. "Where is the _toilet_?"

"Under the litterbox," came Deidara's voice through the door.

"Why is there a litterbox on the toilet?" asked Ino as she removed the offending item.

"I'm trying to train my cat to use the toilet."

Ino peed, rinsed her hands in the thing that was probably supposed to be a sink, and came back out. "You have a cat? I thought you were just bullshitting me with that idiocy about the alibi…"

"Only half bullshitting you. I got him for the rats. He's over there…"

The cat was sitting on the microwave – a fat, fluffy orange thing with a protruding tongue and an absurd amount of whiskers. Between its paws sat a rat, but the rat wasn't dead. It was…cuddling with the cat.

"Your cat is broken," said Ino.

"I know," said Deidara. "His name's Sasori. Now sit your ass down and don't move. I gotta figure out my next steps, here."

"Sit where?" asked Ino, given that there were no chairs.

"Not on a bomb," said Deidara helpfully.

Ino picked her way across the floor to the mattress, checked it for discarded needles or gooey condoms (there were none) and sat down. " _Pitiful_. Why don't you have sheets? Or an actual bed, for that matter…"

"What do you think this is, the Ritz?" said Deidara, who was, for reasons that were unclear to Ino, stacking old newspapers onto the kitchen table ("table").

"This is barely livable," said Ino. "This is like – like a refugee camp…we're in New York, not Ethiopia…!"

"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out, you entitled one-percenter."

"I'm not _entitled_ –"

Ino's defense of herself was interrupted when the rat jumped out from between the cat's paws and crept up to her.

"Get _away_ ," shrieked Ino, kicking at it.

Deidara tutted. "Now it's _definitely_ gonna bite you."

Ino pulled her knees up and pressed her forehead onto them and resigned herself to her imminent death by rabies.

The sound of cutting made her look up. Deidara was at the table, by all appearances making crafts with newspapers and popsicle sticks and white glue and everything. He still had his gloves on, which seemed to be somewhat hampering his mobility.

"…What are you doing?" asked Ino.

"Ransom note," said Deidara. "Duh."

Ino stared. "You cannot be serious."

"Of course I'm serious."

"No one's used ransom notes for abductions since, like, the nineteenth century."

"Great. It's _classic_ ," said Deidara. "Besides, my handwriting is shit. Here's what I have so far."

He held up the collage for Ino's perusal, which said, by way of greeting, in block capitals, "DEAR RICH ASSHOLE FATHER OF INO."

This was ludicrous enough that Ino almost wanted to laugh but she was also scared and nervy and it might veer into screaming hysterics so she didn't. "You could just call my father and ask him for the money, you know."

"Really," said Deidara with a deadpan look. "You think I'm gonna do that."

"Why not…?"

"He's mister fuckin' telecoms. He'll have 300 people tracing the call the minute it comes in and he realizes something's up. Yeah. Not happening."

Ino sighed – it had been worth a shot.

The good news was that, once her ostensible getaway at the spa was over and her father didn't hear from her for a few days, he would be tracing her phone regardless, and that would lead him here, so she'd be stuck here at most for a few days…good, good.

This was going to be fine.

"So, how much does your dad love you?" asked Deidara as he cut out more letters from the newspapers.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Like, what do you think he'd give me for you – is five million too much?"

Her father would give up his entire fortune for her, obviously, but this cretin didn't need to know that.

"I don't know," said Ino.

"Let's make it five," said Deidara. "He can negotiate me down…"

"Why the hell do you need so much money?"

"I told you – I owe it to someone."

"But why so much? What did you do with it all?"

"Uh – bad decisions," said Deidara.

Silence fell as Deidara finished his ransom note. He held it up to her when it was done:

_DEAR RICH ASSHOLE FATHER OF INO,_

_I HAVE UR DAUGHTER_

_ASSUME U LOVE HER (NOT SURE WHY; VERY ANNOYING)_

_IF SO, 5 MIL USD_

_TO MY SWISS BANK ACCT: 445-66784-2222-67754_

_OTHERWISE SHE DIES_

_THX_

_\- KIDNAPPER_

_P.S. DO NOT CALL POPO_

_P.P.S. I HAVE NOT HURT HER BUT I WILL IF U CALL POPO_

"He's _obviously_ going to call the popo," said Ino.

"Then I'll have to hurt you," said Deidara. "Hey, if I lick this envelope, do you think they can, like, get my DNA?"

"Um, probably?"

"Hm. You lick it, then."

"No."

"Lick it," said Deidara, holding the envelope to her face.

" _No._ "

The cold metal of the gun pressed into Ino's temple. "Lick it."

Ino gritted her teeth and reached for the envelope and licked it. "There, you fucker."

Deidara, looking pleased with himself, shoved the envelope into a bag by the door. Then he occupied himself with picking white glue off of his black gloves.

"Why the gloves?" asked Ino.

"'Cause," said Deidara.

"Oh," said Ino. "Prints."

"Right, prints," said Deidara. "I'm hungry."

Deidara dug out some fast food bags from the mini-fridge.

"You want?" he said, holding out a wilted burrito.

Ino stared at the offering. "You're feeding me old Taco Bell?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"Disgusting. Unhealthy. This is how fatties get fat."

"I'm not fat," said Deidara, stuffing the burrito into his mouth. "What do you want, something from the Whole Foods salad bar?"

He cracked up, like this was some kind of hilarious joke.

"Yes," said Ino seriously.

Deidara paused in his laughing and looked at her with half a burrito sticking out of his mouth. "Wow, you're being for real right now."

"Um, yes? You think I'm going to eat this garbage?"

Deidara resumed his chewing. "Too bad your princessy ass is a hostage and Taco Bell's the only thing on the menu."

He tossed her a second burrito and Ino, unsure of when her next meal would be, peeled it open. She picked out the tomatoes, lettuce, and guacamole, and ate those.

"You're not gonna finish?" asked Deidara when Ino had eaten about 40 calories of vegetables and begun to toss bits of meat to the rat and the cat.

"No. I don't eat nasty mystery meat."

"It's beef."

"It's ground-up roadkill."

Deidara stared at her in a _judgy_ way, like she was just demonstrating again how much of a prissy one-percenter she was, and ate the rest of her burrito before the cat could steal it.

VVV

Midnight rolled around. Ino slumped back against the wall and found herself fighting to keep her eyes open. She had dozed off here and there and woken up with little starts, expecting to find herself back in her office, ready to laugh at her weird kidnapping dream.

Unfortunately, it was still real.

Deidara, who had been tinkering with some WMD or other in a corner, got to his feet and yawned. "K. I'm wiped. I gotta sleep. How do I do that without you running away?"

Ino shook her head. "You _really_ haven't thought this through, have you…?"

"No," said Deidara. "It was kind of an _impulsive_ decision…bad habit of mine…"

He rustled around in a box filled with white plastic strips in the corner.

"Not more zip ties," said Ino, watching him approach with dread.

"Yes more zip ties," said Deidara.

"Make them looser this time," said Ino.

"No."

"But if I get, like, gangrene, my father won't pay to get me back…"

"If I make them looser you'll be able to walk," said Deidara as he looped one of the zip ties around her ankle. "Which means you could escape while I'm sleeping. Or…"

"Or…?"

"There," said Deidara, securing the other end of the zip tie around his own ankle. "Problem solved."

"How is this ' _problem solved_ '?" asked Ino, observing the arrangement with violent cynicism.

"'Cause this way it's not as tight around your ankles, but I'll feel it if you try to get away," said Deidara. "Duh."

"This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard of."

Deidara lay down beside her on the mattress. "If it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid."

In a matter of minutes, Deidara was out like a light – and sleeping hard. He didn't react to any of the creepy nighttime noises that kept spooking Ino awake: the screams, the bumps, the deluded rambling from the guy next door, the corpses in the hallway coming back to life and having a fist fight…so yes, he'd been right to tie them together, because apparently he could sleep through anything.

The scissors that could've freed Ino from this stupid zip tie were on the kitchen table, well out of reach from the mattress. Ino stared at them where they glinted in the bit of moonlight that filtered through the window, taunting her.

She settled onto her side, stared into the darkness, and wondered when a rat would come eat her face off.

Something skittered in the shadows just as she had that thought. Ino backed into Deidara, biting back a scream.

It was just the stupid cat. He wandered over, his eyes reflecting greenly at her in the darkness, purring even as he approached.

"Go away," whispered Ino.

The cat purred more loudly and brushed himself along her.

"Ugh, you're infested with rat fleas," hissed Ino.

The cat settled himself in the V formed by Ino and Deidara's joined legs.

"I'm going to catch the plague," said Ino to the darkness.

Then the absurdity of her own pronouncement hit her and she giggled to herself in the dark.

Oh Jesus Christ. Was this real life, right now? Was she really in a crack house, zip tied to her kidnapper, talking to a cat, and _giggling_?

This was all just a bad dream. Everything was going to be okay. She was fine. She was unhurt. Deidara was a bumbling idiot, maybe, but not a serial killer or a rapist or a murderer. Just a moron in debt who was desperate to get out of it and who thought that she'd be his meal ticket. This was fine. He'd get the ransom money and then they'd go their separate ways. Or, more likely, he'd bungle this up and she'd have an opportunity to escape or call the police. He was clueless. She was smart. It was going to be okay…

Ino drifted into an uneasy doze as Deidara slept open-mouthed next to her.

She was awakened by his rude poking at her shoulder at 4:00 a.m.

" _What_?" said Ino, who was never in a good mood upon awakening, much less when she was sleeping on a shitty mattress on the floor still in her work clothes with her leg pulled behind her at an uncomfortable angle because Deidara was trying to get up.

"I gotta pee," whispered Deidara.

"So untie us and go pee," said Ino.

"No," said Deidara, "'cause then I have to tie you up to make sure you don't escape while I pee and I don't wanna waste another zip tie."

"Just use another stupid zip tie, god…"

"No. I have a finite supply."

"…I'm not coming with you to pee."

"Yeah you are," said Deidara.

"No," said Ino.

Deidara got up and began to walk to the bathroom, which meant that Ino was being dragged across the mattress by her ankle. She yelped and scrambled to her feet just before her head hit the floor.

"You _douchebag_ ," she said as they did an awkward three-legged shuffle to the bathroom.

She turned away while Deidara took a half-asleep leak.

As she glared at the dirty wall, Ino realized that she, too, needed to pee.

"I need to go," said Ino when Deidara had flushed and it was safe to turn around again.

"So go," said Deidara.

"I'm not peeing with you _right here_ , attached to my foot," hissed Ino.

"So piss your pants. I'm going back to bed. Bye," said Deidara, making for the door.

"Fine, _fine_ …" said Ino.

Then she sat on the toilet with one leg extended to where Deidara stood, facing away from her, and an awkward silence fell.

"Jesus, what's taking so long?" said Deidara after a long moment of this. "I thought you needed to go."

"I can't just _pee_ while you're _standing here_ , oh my god…"

Deidara limped towards the sink and almost pulled her off the toilet. "There. Water's on. Now go."

The water worked. Ino had the most uncomfortable pee of her life and they did the awkward three-legged shuffle back to the mattress.

"I _hate_ you," said Ino as she lay down.

" _I_ hate _you_ ," said Deidara as he lay down next to her. "Now shut up. If all goes well you're gone by tomorrow and I'm five million richer and I can go on with my life."

"Good," said Ino. "And I can go on with _my_ life without a new disease or having to piss with the world's biggest douchebag attached to my foot."

"Good."

" _Good_."


	3. Chapter 3

Ino woke up starving because last night's teaspoon of shredded lettuce and tomato hadn't provided much sustenance. It was, judging from the sunlight that streamed through the grimy windows, close to eight a.m.

Deidara was still sound asleep next to her. Ino studied his sleeping face for a moment: he seemed quite peaceful, dreaming away there, with a balled-up sweatshirt under his head because she had stolen the sole pillow at some point during the night.

But he wasn't allowed to be peaceful, not when she was starving. Also, he was a kidnapper.

"Wake up," whispered Ino.

Nothing happened. Ino shook Deidara's shoulder and still he didn't stir. So she poked at his chest and, when that didn't work, she tugged at a strand of his hair.

"Wow," said Ino in her normal voice. "Did you die?"

There was no response from Deidara.

" _WAKE UP_ ," shouted Ino into his face.

Still no reaction. So Ino decided to take matters into her own hands and started dragging her way towards the table to fetch the scissors.

Deidara wasn't particularly big or tall, but he was a hell of a dead weight. Ino dug her fingers into the waistband of his pants and dragged him along with her towards the table. For a moment he seemed to wake up, because he stirred and said, "S'not time yet," and Ino froze, but then he fell back asleep.

Sasori the cat meandered over in his pudgy whiskery way, watched the proceedings with interest for a moment, and then, purring, sat himself in the middle of Deidara's chest.

"Get off, you turd, he's heavy enough," said Ino, swatting the cat away.

The cat turned so that Ino's swat became a long pet and avoided her subsequent attempts to brush him off. Ino made an inarticulate sound of annoyance before she decided to cut her losses and dragged both of these inert wastes of space across the room.

"Finally," she breathed when she was close enough to reach the scissors. She snatched them up, intending to make quick work of that zip tie and then getting the hell out of here.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she turned back towards Deidara and found him staring at her.

"Give me those," said Deidara, motioning for the scissors.

"No," said Ino. "Don't move, or I _will_ stab you with them."

"Fine," said Deidara, and he didn't move.

Ino held up the scissors in what she hoped was a threatening manner. Then, since Deidara hadn't moved, she bent down and started to cut away at the zip tie. Where was his gun? If she could reach the door before he could reach that…

Deidara didn't let her get far with her cutting before he snapped his leg outward, pulling Ino's ankle out from under her.

"Ow," said Ino as her knees hit the floor hard for the second time in so many days.

Then Deidara kicked the scissors out of her hands so she was left kneeling, glaring, and armed with nothing but anger. "Dickhead."

"Back to the bed," said Deidara, looking equally pissy as he grabbed the scissors.

"No," said Ino.

"Yes," said Deidara, limping away and dragging Ino along with him.

"It's not even a _bed_ ," said Ino when she'd been dumped back onto the mattress.

"Shut up."

"What are you–? No, not my hands – not my hands," said Ino when Deidara pulled out another goddamn zip tie from a pocket.

"Yes your hands," said Deidara.

"No," said Ino, holding her hands behind her.

"Yes," said Deidara.

Some wrestling ensued.

Ino sucked at it.

A minute later, she found herself kneeling on the mattress, her wrists pulled in front of her and zip-tied to the radiator.

Deidara stood up and snipped away the one that still bound their ankles together.

"Jerk," spat Ino.

"If you'd behaved yourself, I wouldn't have had to do that," said Deidara. "Now I'm showering. Stay put."

"I'll scream," said Ino.

"Go ahead," said Deidara. "It'd be a weird morning around here if there wasn't some woman screaming…"

Ino didn't believe Deidara and called his bluff by screaming her lungs out the minute she heard him get into the shower. She screamed fire, she screamed that she was being kidnapped, she screamed that she was being murdered, she kicked at the radiator…

Her only response was the dude next door telling her to shut the fuck up through the wall. He also informed her, with words that were hideously unkind given her predicament, that he'd come over there and really give her something to scream about if she didn't stop.

He sounded large and slightly crazy, so Ino stopped screaming. Instead, she leaned her head against the radiator and cried because she was scared and angry and – this was the rarest and most painful feeling of all – _powerless_ right now.

"How'd the screaming work out?" asked Deidara ten minutes later as he waltzed out of the bathroom.

"Fuck off."

"Not so good, huh?"

"Fuck _off._ "

"…Have you been crying?"

Ino didn't answer him and faced the wall.

She felt Deidara's hand pat her back. "Hey, man, do you want to talk about it? You know I'm always here for you."

Ino shrugged his hand off angrily. "You're not funny. And _don't touch me_."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm here because of _you…_!"

"Yep," said Deidara. "I'm hungry. You want burritos for breakfast?"

" _No._ "

"I also have Eggos."

This didn't actually sound that bad to Ino – well, it was bad because it was disgusting cardboard-paste food that she'd never normally eat, but it wasn't old-burritos bad, so Ino didn't outright reject the idea, until she found out that Deidara's preparation methods involved putting the frozen waffles in the microwave.

"What?" he said when he noticed her look of shocked disapproval.

"You're _microwaving_ them? Doesn't that make them all nasty and soggy?"

"Does it _look_ like I have a toaster?"

"I can't believe you live like this," said Ino.

"There's worse."

"This is pitiful. I will buy you a goddamn toaster."

"I don't need charity from the likes of _you._ "

Deidara flopped a warm mushy waffle onto a paper plate and presented it to Ino.

"Ew," said Ino.

"God, you're picky," said Deidara, plopping himself onto the mattress next to her and eating the waffle himself. "I hope your dad comes through fast 'cause I don't really know how I'm supposed to keep you alive for more than forty-eight hours at this rate."

He chewed and looked at her thoughtfully. "Reminds me of that time I stole that white peacock from that rich guy's house."

" _Why_ would you even steal a peacock?"

"'Cause I like pretty things and it was pretty. And expensive. And I might've been high."

"What happened to it?"

"It died."

"Um. Why?"

"'Cause it wouldn't eat or drink anything. Like you. It died before I could sell it. Also maybe like you."

"Great," said Ino.

"There's food right here," said Deidara, wiggling the floppy waffle at Ino like she was some kind of bird he was trying to entice.

"No," said Ino.

Deidara shrugged and finished the gross waffle.

"I'm thirsty," said Ino.

"I have water or…water."

"Water is fine."

Deidara got up, rustled around the fridge, and found a bottle. He tossed it at her.

"Don't thr–," said Ino as the bottle made a graceful arc towards her and her useless zip-tied-to-the-radiator hands.

The bottle hit her in the boob.

"Whoops," said Deidara with a wince. "My bad…"

Ino glared at him. "Untie me so I can drink."

"So you can threaten me with scissors as soon as my back is turned? No."

To Ino's annoyance, he knelt beside her, opened the bottle, and held it to her mouth. To her further annoyance, she was too thirsty to fight him about it. So she drank and stared icy daggers at him.

"Hey," came a voice out of nowhere.

Deidara sprung to his feet. "Jesus. Can't you goddamn _knock_ like a normal person?"

"No."

The speaker was the red headed fake police officer from the day before. Ino stared him down from her undignified position on the mattress, because he was a horrible person who impersonated an officer of the law, and also, he had been rude to her.

"She's still here?" said the red-haired man.

"Duh," said Deidara. "Wrapping it up today, I hope."

"This was a bad idea."

Deidara was gathering up some packages wrapped in brown paper. "I wanted your help, Sasori, not your opinion."

"It was a _very bad_ idea."

"If you have a better idea for how I can make five mil in a week, you haven't exactly been _forthcoming_ about it, have you?"

"I'm not the one who was dumb enough to get into debt with Kakuzu," said Sasori.

"Great. So fuck off and let _me_ solve _my_ problems how _I_ see fit." Deidara handed the packages to Sasori. "That's the Otogakure order. They're paying cash. Count it – I don't trust those bastards."

"I know," said Sasori. He hefted the packages under one arm, gave Ino a last look, said, "A very bad idea" again, and left.

"…I thought Sasori was the cat's name," said Ino when he was gone.

"It is," said Deidara.

"But…?"

Deidara turned to where the cat was cleaning itself. "Sasori. Stop licking your asshole."

Then Deidara burst into laughter all by himself, like this was the most hilarious, witty thing in the world.

"I see," said Ino.

Deidara pulled out his phone. "I'm gonna drop off that ransom note. Where's your dad's office, again?"

"Wall Street and William. And I hope security catches you and hurts you."

"Cool, cool," said Deidara. "Lemme catch up on the news and I'm gonna go…"

He lapsed into silence, scrolling away at his phone here and there while Ino watched jealously because she was so close to being able to dial 911 but he was just out of reach and her hands were tied.

"Huh," said Deidara after a while.

"What?"

"Hm," said Deidara.

"What? What is it?"

" _Weird_."

"What's weird?" said Ino, edging closer to him as far as her zip ties allowed.

"Someone's put out a hit on your dad," said Deidara.

Ino was stunned into silence as she parsed this sentence.

Then, with a shriek: " _What_?!"

"That's some funny fuckin' timing," muttered Deidara.

"Show me!"

Deidara turned his phone to Ino. She scanned through the text on the screen: _T_ _en million for Inoichi Yamanaka's death, "accidental" preferred, to be paid in full upon delivery of evidence._

"Oh my god? Is this for real?"

"Yeah, it's real," said Deidara.

"But how? It's like a message board? On the internet? For killing people?"

"The dark web. We _poorsies_ and criminals use the internet too, you know…and not only for porn. You can order heroin or sex or assassinations or…worse things. Anyway, who wants your dad dead?"

"I don't know?!" gasped out Ino, rereading those horrible lines about _"accidental" preferred_. "This is terrible? We have to do something?!"

"We? Yeah, no."

"But–"

"Shit," interrupted Deidara, as though seized with a realization. "If your dad dies, who's gonna pay for _you_?"

" _That's_ your takeaway, here?!" shrieked Ino. "My father is going to be _killed…_ "

"Or," said Deidara, rubbing his chin and ignoring her, "if _I_ kill him, I get the ten million, and I don't have to deal with you; I can just dump you in the river…"

"You…!" sputtered Ino, pulling powerlessly at her zip tie, which she would be strangling him with right now, if only she could reach.

"Or!" said Deidara, perking up like he'd just had the world's brightest idea, "Even better: I ransom you, get the five million, _then_ I kill him and get the ten million…"

" _Deidara!_ "

He looked up to find Ino staring at him with crazy eyes, practically foaming at the mouth, and almost bleeding at the wrists from pulling at the zip tie.

"Jesus, I was joking," said Deidara, visibly taken aback. "I don't kill people. I'm just a weapons dealer…I don't even _kidnap_ people; you're a stupid exception that I'm regretting more every minute…"

" _Good_ ," said Ino, reducing her foaming only slightly.

"Now stop pulling like that. I don't want your blood on my mattress…gross…I might get AIDS…"

Ino was too flustered to even respond to this ridiculous statement. "But what's going to happen? What about my dad? Who put the hit on him? _Why?_ "

"Dunno," said Deidara, reading through the post again. "People don't generally advertise the who and the why, you know; it kind of gets in the way of the whole anonymity thing…"

"I need to find out," gasped Ino, "I need to get out of here and warn him–"

"Stop _hyperventilating_ ," said Deidara. "He's not going to get killed in the next five minutes, Jesus. These things take weeks, if not months…"

"I need to call the police – the FBI – I need to get him protected – who's paying ten million? I'm going to find out and I'm going to kill them myself – how _dare_ they – I'll do it with my bare hands–"

"Calm _down_ …"

"Give me your phone. _Give me your phone._ "

Deidara took a step away from Ino and looked at her and her wild eyes and her desperation like he was seeing her in an entirely new light. "Wow. You _really_ care about your dad."

"Obviously," hissed Ino. "Now stop dicking around–"

"You can't tell your dad. Or call the police."

"Why not? I need to do _something_ …"

"Because whoever's paying ten million for a job like this is rich enough to have agents in their pockets with all of your little law enforcement friends," said Deidara. "You don't want them to know that you know yet. That would be a mistake."

"So what do _you_ suggest I do…?"

"Not my problem," said Deidara with a shrug. "I'm gonna stick to my original plan and get the cash for you and then…you do whatever. Tell your dad, call the police, call the FBI."

"But you just said I shouldn't do that!"

"Free advice," said Deidara, heading to the door and slinging his bag on his shoulder. "Use it or don't, I don't care. I'm gonna keep well out of this one…ten _million_ …someone really wants him dead…"

"Wait!" said Ino when Deidara opened the door.

"What?"

Ino scrambled to put together the beginnings of some kind of plan. "Do _you_ want the ten mil?"

"I'm not killing Inoichi Yamanaka, so no."

"But if you _save_ him…!"

Deidara turned towards her. "I don't know where you think you're going with this, little lawyer girl, but…keep talking."

"If you save him – help me find out who wants him dead, with your – your connections to the underworld, without me having to go to the police…"

"The 'underworld'," repeated Deidara with air quotes.

"Yes, with all the criminals and the mafia and the other nasties that you know and I don't–"

"Hold up," said Deidara. "I _distinctly_ remember you telling me that I could _never_ offer you connections you'd ever need to use…"

"I was wrong," said Ino.

"Do you ever admit you were wrong? I feel like this is a special moment."

"No," said Ino with a glare. "Because I'm never wrong. Except I was, okay? You're right. Ten million is a shit ton of money. So someone with a shit-ton of power is after him. So I'll take your advice and–"

" _You'll_ take _my_ advice?"

"– _Yes,_ I will. I won't go to the police or tell my dad yet, if you don't think that's the best way – okay? Because he'll go straight to the cops. And obviously, you know better than I do about the – the mentalities of criminals and psychos who hire assassins…"

Deidara was looking at her askance.

"I _need_ your help," continued Ino. "Help me get a name, find out who did this, and I'll make sure you're rewarded. My father will pay you as much as you could possibly want–"

"I don't think so," said Deidara. "I just want my five mil for you and I'm home free. I'm not getting involved in this shit. You know who pays ten million for a hit? The big fucking leagues. I don't know who your dad pissed off but I'm _not_ getting involved."

" _Please_."

"Nah," said Deidara, reaching for the door again. "I'm just a _failure of a petty criminal_ , remember? Five million sets me up for _life_. Whatever happens after that isn't my problem. Bye."

"Stop. _Please_. What else can I offer you? Is there _anything_?"

Deidara looked at her.

" _Anything_ ," repeated Ino.

"This is making me really uncomfortable," said Deidara after a beat.

"Oh my god," said Ino, "I wasn't, like, offering to blow you right here, I meant in terms of money or whatever else…?"

"Yeah, not like I'm letting you and your sharp fuckin' tongue anywhere near my dick," said Deidara. "But, no."

" _Please_."

"No."

"I don't know anyone else who could help me–"

"You're a lawyer. Don't you know hundreds of lowlifes like me?"

"I put them behind bars," said Ino. "You were an exception because of those stupid goddamn pro bono hours and I needed a case and I didn't have time to be strategic about which one – a decision which I will regret forever – so I got saddled with _you_ , and now, somehow, you're my best hope for helping my dad and you're bailing on me for five million, when he'd easily throw you the ten for saving his life…!"

Ino sank into silence, too breathless to continue.

"…Would he really?" asked Deidara.

"It's not my money," said Ino, "but I think so."

Deidara pushed the door closed. "Fuck. Now I need to think about this."

"Yes," said Ino. " _Thank you._ "

Deidara re-joined Ino on the mattress, crossed his legs, and put his chin in his gloved hands.

"So you'll–"

"Shh," said Deidara. "I'm thinking."


	4. Chapter 4

The silence grew long – long and agonizing, for Ino, as Deidara sat and frowned and muttered to himself, apparently weighing the pros and cons of five million versus ten million and the risks associated with each reward.

Then he began to vocalise some of his worries and he and Ino bickered about how much more ten million was compared to five million (that wasn't even guaranteed to happen) and who the fuck could even afford to offer such a sum and how Deidara was going to be dead in a week if he didn't get the money and the ten million would definitely buy out his debts with this Kaka? Kazuzu? Guy ("Kakuzu. And _don't say his name_.") but at the same time what big-time Yakuza or mob boss was aiming to take down Yamanaka Sr. because holy shit, ten million, was it even worth getting involved in this shit?

"Okay," said Deidara when they had exhausted the topic over a two-hour circular discussion. "Okay, I'll tell you what. I'll _try_ to get you a name. Low key, staying off the radar, just casually asking around. But I won't do more than that."

"I'll take it," said Ino. "What do we do? Who do we need to talk to?"

"We?" repeated Deidara.

"Yes, _we_ ," said Ino. "Or did you think I was just going to sit back and let you do the dirty work?"

"Uh, yeah, that's exactly what I thought."

"I _do_ let others do my dirty work for me most of the time," admitted Ino (quite magnanimously in her opinion), "but not when someone's trying to _murder_ my _father_."

"I don't think you're going to be useful where I'm gonna go."

"Where are you going to go?"

"Satan's Asshole."

"Be _serious_ …"

"I am serious. It's a club."

"Oh."

"I know a guy who might have some background on that post," said Deidara. "Maybe. It's big money so it'll be natural for people to be curious about it. I'll ask him, but really subtle-like, you know–"

"I'm _really_ good at interrogating people," interjected Ino.

"No. You're gonna cross-examine him like he's a witness in a courtroom and you'll blow everything. You shouldn't even come."

"Okay, okay, I won't talk to him," said Ino. "But let me be there, what if I pick up on something you don't? Please. I'm _smart_. I didn't get as far as I did in life by being a ditz…"

"Real far," said Deidara, looking her up and down. "Zip tied to a radiator in an ex-con's apartment. I wonder if there's a lifetime achievement award for this…"

Ino kicked at him and he laughed.

"Speaking of which," said Ino, "you should untie me, if we're going to work _together…_ "

Deidara looked doubtful in the extreme. "Right. And how do I know you aren't just going to fuck off and run and I lose out on both the five million _and_ the ten million?"

"I think we've already established that you're _necessary_ to me right now, so why the hell would I run away?"

"I don't trust you," said Deidara.

"And I don't trust _you –_ but I'm trusting you anyway."

"That's 'cause your dad's head is on the line. Mine's isn't," said Deidara. "Because he's already dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Ino, though she wasn't sorry at all. "But what do you want to do? Sign a goddamn contract?"

"No," said Deidara, "because any contract you write will be full of lawyery weasel-y shit…"

"Fine, _you_ write the contract," said Ino.

"No," said Deidara. "You write it. I dictate."

"Fine."

Deidara found a pencil and a scrap of paper, which he passed to Ino, and then he paced and crossed his arms and dictated while Ino wrote with zip tied hands, which was no small feat.

And so, Ino produced the following piece of crap of a contract:

_Ino Yamanaka hereby declares that she will not fuck off and run away when her zip ties are undone. Also, Deidara will make a concerted effort to get The Name. If he succeeds, he gets ten million. If he fails, he gets five million for trying. If Ino fucks off and runs away, he will catch her again and get the five million anyway, so she better not do that. By signing this contract, Ino Yamanaka also agrees that she is an uptight spoiled little snot._

"Is this final line really necessary?" asked Ino.

"Yes," said Deidara.

"Fine," said Ino, signing the thing.

Deidara signed it too, looking pleased.

"Okay, so when do we leave for Satan's Asshole?"

Deidara looked at her like she was stupid. "It's noon. Do you really think the cool people go to the bar at noon?"

"No…"

"We'll go at, like, one in the morning. Nerd."

"Oh."

"And you aren't going dressed like that."

Ino looked down at herself. "Well I know it's not exactly club wear, but I can take off the jacket, wouldn't that be ok just to–"

"No. What are you gonna do, walk in and ask where the board meeting is? Jesus Christ. You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"I don't have anything else," said Ino. "I kind of got _kidnapped_ , remember? And I'm _not_ wearing your clothes…"

"There's a thrift shop down the block," said Deidara, eyeing Ino's beautiful Yves Saint Laurent skirt suit critically.

"No. I'm not wearing disease-ridden thrift-wear."

"Fine," said Deidara with a shrug. "Then you aren't coming. You'll blow everything showing up like Attorney Barbie."

Ino raised her eyes to the ceiling. God help her, she needed him, so now she had to listen to him. "Fine, _fine_ , I'll go…"

VVV

The thrift shop felt less like a shop to Ino than a place where people fenced off stolen goods for resale. Watches, jewelry, designer wear suspiciously with the tags still on – yeah, this wasn't the most legit place she'd ever set foot in. But the clothes in the bins seemed clean enough – there were no _visible_ lice on them, at any rate, and they smelled vaguely like industrial detergent.

First Ino wandered around and picked things up here and there and Deidara shook his head at everything and called her an uptight nerd, and asked where was the math competition was, because that was obviously what she was dressing for?

Then he apparently grew tired of watching her find the classiest pieces in the shop ("Hey, I think these heels are like, legitimate Jimmy Choos?") and then try to convince him that they were appropriate to wear to his nasty hole of a club. He shoved her into a fitting room and flung things at her over the curtain.

"Everything is hideous," said Ino through the curtain, "but how do you hit my size dead on every time? Damn…"

"I have an eye for proportions," said Deidara, flinging more things at her.

After a prolonged argument about the necessity, or not, of fishnet tights, which Deidara won, Ino emerged from the fitting room wearing what he apparently considered to be appropriate for tonight: the skankiest, tightest, shortest "dress" that Ino had ever worn (god forbid she had to bend over), four inch heels, torn-up stockings, and glittery makeup.

"My god," said Ino, looking down at herself.

Deidara whistled and gave her a long once-over. "Hot trash. It's…kind of doing it for me."

"I think the tights are too much."

"Leave the tights."

"The Ke$ha makeup, though?"

"Leave it. And do something with your hair, for fuck's sake – mess it up a little."

"It's already messy," said Ino.

"No it's not. It's still perfect. How is it still perfect? You _slept_ in it."

Deidara reached over and tugged some strands out of Ino's bun here and there, enough to make her look like a trailer trash girl who'd just rolled out of her bed, or, perhaps, her outhouse.

"Ugh," said Ino.

"Now put these on," said Deidara.

Ino looked at the enormous hoop earrings he was handing her. "Are you _serious_? These are so _trashy_ …"

"You can decide if I was wrong after we get there tonight."

Ino put on the earrings and looked at herself in the mirror. "Jesus Christ. I just understood."

"What?"

"…You're making me dress like a prostitute."

"Uh, yeah."

"I am not okay with this," said Ino.

"What kind of girl do you think goes to this kind of joint, exactly? Nuns?"

"But a _whore_?"

"You can dress the goddamn part and fit in, or you can stay tied to the goddamn radiator and let me do my thing without you fucking it up…"

" _Fine_ , I'll dress the goddamn part," said Ino.

"Good girl," said Deidara. He swatted her ass as she walked by, presumably for the benefit of the cashier who had wandered to their corner and was eyeing them suspiciously. As _if_ Ino would ever shoplift from this dumpster of a shop…

It insulted her profoundly to have to pay for this garbage – but Deidara made it clear that it sure as hell wasn't going to be him.

So Ino tottered out of the store looking completely different from when she had wandered in. Oddly, her new outfit garnered far fewer stares in the street than her previous one, except for one guy who wandered up to them and asked Deidara who Ino's pimp was.

"Me," said Deidara.

"When can I have her?" said the guy.

"She's out of your range, buddy," said Deidara with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Try Trixi's down the road."

"K," said the guy, and he wandered off.

"Wow," said Ino.

Yes. Dressed like this, she fit in here, here in this hideous post-apocalyptic neighbourhood of NYC where the only denizens were weirdos and creeps and ex-cons and drug addicts. And apparently every woman was either a whore, a crack whore, or…

"Dead?"

"Yeah," said Deidara, turning Ino away from the corpse that lay in the street. "Don't look."

"But? Why is she dead? Overdose? Did someone kill her? Is someone going to _investigate?_ "

"Eventually," said Deidara. "Let's be honest, she's better off now than she was…"

"How do you know that? Do you realize that she was someone's _daughter_? This is terrible? This cannot be real?"

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Welcome to outside of your castle walls."

"How can people live like this? This is like, a third world country?"

Deidara said something about princess fucking peach and steered Ino into a pizza joint.

"How can you eat when we just saw a _dead person_?"

"'Cause I'm hungry," said Deidara. "She's not getting any less dead if I starve myself, is she?"

Ino watched him eat an oily slice of pizza in disgust.

"You aren't going to eat?"

"No."

"You're gonna pass out if you don't eat something soon."

"I'm not eating _that._ "

"Well, then you aren't coming tonight 'cause I don't need you _fainting_ in the middle of everything and drawing attention to yourself."

Ino sighed. "Do they have salads?"

"…This is a pizza place."

"I'm going to ask if they have salads," said Ino, pushing back her chair.

When presented with the mushy, mayonnaise-soaked salad options available, Ino opted for a slice of thin-crust margherita and choked it down. "Horrid. I'm going to have to do, like, three extra spin classes to burn this garbage off…"

" _Finally,_ you're eating," said Deidara. "I thought you were gonna make like that goddamn peacock and die."

VVV

Satan's Asshole had earned its name: it was dark, smoky, and _hot_. The place was crowded with far too many bodies for Ino's liking and it stunk as a result, of alcohol spilled or burped up and many illicit things being burnt and smoked, and sweat, so much sweat…and the quote-unquote music? It pounded with a beat that was definitely not Tchaikovsky, so loud that Ino could feel it in the soles of her shoes.

The place was an assault not only on Ino's senses, but also on her sensibilities. As she and Deidara pushed their way in through the throng, she spotted a man injecting himself with something just in front of her (insulin, said Ino to herself, definitely insulin). There were women wandering around so scantily dressed that Ino, in her skanktastic outfit, felt chic. Everyone seemed at least moderately drunk or rolling on something. Ino looked at the people surging around them and barely saw human beings in these creatures with their glassy eyes, their half-opened mouths, their grinding…

"Oh my god," she said, holding herself tightly to Deidara's side. "There's a woman back there? Who just did a line of coke off of a guy's dick? Oh my god?"

"A girl after my own heart," said Deidara. He tried to pull his arm from Ino's grip. "Stop being so _clingy_ , Jesus, I can't feel my arm…"

Ino did not return his arm. Deidara looked down at her. Their eyes met – and he saw her fear.

"You're scared."

"No," said Ino, and then a knife fight broke out next to them and she all but leapt into Deidara's arms. "Yes."

"So leave. I'll give you my key–"

The fighters were subdued by the crowd; their knives were removed; the party carried on.

"No," said Ino, climbing off Deidara and trying to seem less clingy. "I want to meet your guy."

Deidara raised Ino's hand to his face. Even under strobe lights, it was obvious that she was trembling.

"Scared shitless and stubborn – that's a stupid combination," said Deidara.

Ino glared and Deidara, seeing from this that she wasn't changing her mind, sighed and led her into a more or less quiet alcove. (At least, no one nearby was doing blow off of someone's dick.)

"Stay here," said Deidara. "I'm gonna see if he's around."

"Okay," nodded Ino, though really she wanted to say, " _please don't leave me here by myself oh god._ "

Deidara disappeared into the crowd. Ino stood around and tried to look like she belonged and nothing was phasing her, but really she was staring around in horror at the things she was seeing. This was everything she disdained: the poor and the criminal and the broken, all of those dregs of humanity, all grouped up in this disgusting hovel where the floor was sticky with booze and puke and the air was thick with smoke and sweat and the breaths of mouths with open sores and ugh, ugh, _ugh_ …

"Hey, sweetcheeks," came a voice in Ino's ear at the same time as a hand grabbed her ass.

She turned to find a massive bald guy peering down at her. He pulled her towards him, both hands now gripping her ass. "You new around here? Haven't seen you before."

Ino froze, unsure whether she should slap him for daring to touch her or whether she should be encouraging him because she was supposed to be a prostitute, so wouldn't this be, like, good for business? What to do? His breath was foul? His arms were like gorilla arms? He had honest-to-god gold grills? Should she scream? What to do?

"Um," was all Ino managed – that and a weak squirm, which elicited a wide grin from the man. (His grills said "Yoji.")

Then Deidara saved Ino by forcibly wedging his way between her and Yoji.

"She's taken," said Deidara.

"Aw, but she's fresh meat…"

" _Taken_. Fuck off."

Yoji fucked off with only a few choice expletives, which surprised Ino, because he must've weighed twice as much as Deidara and probably could've concussed him with a backhand.

"Never leave me alone again," said Ino as Deidara pulled her by the hand through the crowd.

"I won't – clearly you just start goddamn flirting with everyone…"

"I was just _standing_ there–"

" _Just standing there_ when that guy is _fondling your ass_ is an invitation to go out back and get railed by him and his buddies on the hood of his Acura."

"Excuse me?" – Ino paused to step primly over a puddle of vomit – "How could that _possibly_ have been interpreted as consent?"

"You're right," said Deidara. "You should go talk to him about consent and make sure he understands that no means no, and also, drugs are bad."

Deidara stopped at a long, crowded table and pulled out the only vacant chair. Ino, in all of her civilized innocence, expected him to offer it to her, but he sat in it himself.

So yes, chivalry was dead.

"I told him you were with me, so _act like it_ ," said Deidara. "Sit down."

"Sit _where?_ " said Ino pissily. "You just took the last _chair_."

" _Here_ ," said Deidara even more pissily, pointing to his lap.

None of their tablemates seemed to notice or care about this angry exchange; they were all too engrossed in their own conversations and deafened by the thumping bass that rattled their glasses.

So Ino lowered herself onto Deidara's lap and sat there like a frozen thing. Deidara put one of his gloved hands on her thigh and she twitched.

"Why are you so _skittish_? Jesus…"

"Sorry," said Ino, taking a breath and remembering that she was supposed to be a prostitute and not Ino Yamanaka, Attorney Extraordinaire, Also Completely Out Of Her Depth.

Deidara put his hand on her again, and again her leg twitched.

"Wow," he said, removing his hand from her thigh and putting it back to watch the phenomenon repeat itself.

"Stop that…!"

"Then stop being so _stiff_ and _twitchy_ and sit back. I'm just a guy, holy fuck…"

"I _know_ you're just a guy."

Deidara looked her up and down. "You're not some kind of virgin, are you? Never been touched or something?"

"Of course not," spat Ino, taking his hand and putting it on her thigh firmly to prove it. "I'm _nervous_. I can barely see, I can barely hear, I just got _groped_ by a gangbanger – this place is freaking me out."

"I told you this was a bad idea."

Ino was not in the mood for his sass. "Know what else was a bad idea? _A_ _bducting me_."

"I know," said Deidara, closing his eyes in a long-suffering manner.

Ino blinked at him. "Did you just admit…?"

" _Yes_ ," said Deidara. "But I still need you – and your daddy's cash. And you need me – and the people I know. So we're both going to have to suck it up."

He was right, of course. Ino slumped against him in something that looked an awful lot like defeat for someone who was always a winner.

But this was okay because it meant that, to any onlookers, Ino looked like she was slouching lazily against Deidara and he was just chilling there with this pretty paid-for girl on his lap.

"When's your guy getting here?" asked Ino, both because she wanted to know and because it was awkward to lean into Deidara's chest in this comfortable way – she would rather be bickering about something.

"When he gets here."

"Yes. Obviously. But _when._ "

"Soon."

Useless. Ino sighed and turned her attention to the goings-on around her – all of this sex, drugs and alcohol that was so raw and dirty that it didn't seem real. She watched a girl younger than she was pass out and get carried off by a man – somewhere safe, she hoped, though she knew as she hoped it that she was being naive.

"Why do they do this?" asked Ino.

"Do what?"

"All of this," said Ino with a gesture that encompassed the entirety of the debauchery before them.

She felt Deidara shrug below her. "Boredom. Escapism. Nothing better to do."

"Do you do it?"

"No."

"Oh."

There was a pause before Deidara spoke again. "I used to."

"Not anymore?"

"No."

"Why?" asked Ino.

Again there was a pause before Deidara spoke. "'Cause… I almost lost everything that matters to me that way."

"Oh."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry," said Ino. "I almost cared, for a second."

"Don't," said Deidara.

"I won't. There are very few people I care about and I can _assure_ you you're not one of them."

"Good – so let's not have a heart to heart about my tragic past, okay?"

"Okay," said Ino. "Fine. Let's talk about something else. Like why those three women in the corner have been glaring daggers at me ever since we sat down."

Deidara glanced over at where three particularly scantily clad women were huddled into a corner and scowling in Ino's direction. "I dunno. That's just how they look."

"Um, no," said Ino. "I know the look of female jealousy. That look transcends socio-economic classes. They hate me because I'm here with you. Who are they?"

"Just…girls," said Deidara.

"Like girlfriends?"

"Uh…they'd like to be?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't really do the girlfriend thing. And I don't pay for it, so…yeah, they're probably wondering who the fuck you are and why you get the honour of sitting on me."

"Blonde, brunette, and redhead," said Ino, eyeing the women. "Wow. You've got the pick of the litter."

"Yeah, well–"

"What are their names? Chlamydia, Herpes, and Crabs?"

She felt the huff of Deidara's laugh on her shoulder. "Careful. The redhead's done time for aggravated assault – someone lost some fingers…"

"Wow," said Ino. "What a night. How to choose between Yoji and his Acura and the psychopath ginger?"

"You don't. You stay right here and you stay safe. I can't trade in your corpse for five mil…"

Ino was distracted from the pissed-off prostitutes by the sight of something far worse. "Oh god."

"Now what…?"

"There's a guy. Getting a beej. _Right there_."

Deidara turned to where Ino was looking and studied the heels that were poking out from under the table. Then he looked at the guy's face. "Yep."

"This is so _wrong_ …" said Ino, staring as though hypnotized. "He's about to…"

"Yeah, he is," said Deidara, turning away to stare at the ceiling.

Ino watched, appalled, as the guy finished and the woman climbed out from under the table, wiped her mouth, and flung herself onto him.

"Stop looking so _scandalized_ ," said Deidara as Ino turned to him, wide-eyed.

"I cannot _believe_ I just saw that."

"Shouldn't have looked."

"We made _eye contact_ ," said Ino, "no wonder the floors are so _sticky_ …"

"You don't want to know what else makes them sticky."

"Oh my _god_ …"

Deidara looked at her horrified face and laughed. "Man. You are way too sober to handle this shit."

He waved over a waitress-slash-prostitute who came by with a tray of shots that smelled more like gasoline than alcohol.

"Here," said Deidara, plonking one in front of Ino. "Drink and loosen the fuck up before you draw attention to your uptight nerd self."

Ino looked at the shot glass. Deidara was right: alcohol did loosen her the fuck up. But usually it was alcohol in the form of imported wines and expensive brandies, not…sewage moonshine, or whatever this was.

"Do you think they carry Courvoisier?" asked Ino.

"Carry what?"

"…Nevermind," sighed Ino.

She stared at the brownish liquid in front of her, took a breath, and swallowed it down.

"Christ," she said, coughing half of it back up. "What the hell is this? Battery acid?"

"Haw. Funny girl."

Ino looked up through her tears to see who had spoken. It was a fat, greasy-looking man, with slicked back hair, a flower in his buttonhole, and a glass of something strong in his fist.

"Teruo, hey," said Deidara.

"Deidara. Don't often see you with girls," said Teruo, raising his glass in Ino's direction. "Who's this? One of Bertucci's new ones?"

"Uh, yeah," said Deidara, as Ino wiped away her tears and tried to look like a decent prostitute. Was she supposed to be being sexy right now? How was one supposed to be sexy when one's nose was running because one's sinuses had been scoured by a shot of Javex?

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand as discreetly as she could and assumed the vacant smile that the women around here seemed to favour. For good measure, she looped her arm around Deidara's neck. (It was his turn to twitch under her touch – perhaps because he was worried that, from her current position, she had a decent shot at strangling him.)

"Have another on me, sweetheart," said Teruo, snatching another shot glass from a passing tray. "You'll learn to like 'em…"

Ino had been about to refuse, but Deidara's fingers digging into her thigh suggested to her that she ought not do that.

She steeled herself and choked down the second shot with minimal tears.

"Good girl," said Teruo, patting her on the knee. "Fast learner."

Ino smiled at him as her stomach roiled unhappily: oily pizza and poison, oh my god, she was going to hurl.

"Heard you wanted to talk," said Teruo to Deidara.

"Yeah. You got a minute?

"For you, I have two," said Teruo. He tapped the shoulder of the burly man at Deidara's right and shooed him off. To Ino's surprise, the man took one look at Teruo and vacated the spot without an argument.

Teruo settled into his newly acquired chair and propped his feet on the table. "How's your ma?"

"Fine," said Deidara.

Teruo placed his drink on his protruding belly and studied Deidara. "That's good. It's been a while. You lookin' for a job?"

"Yeah. I need cash."

"No job I can get you is gonna give you what you need to pay _him_ back," said Teruo. "You know that."

"I'm working on it," said Deidara.

Teruo shook his head. "You got in deep with the wrong one, boy. I told you that a long time ago…"

"You know I didn't have a choice."

"You did have a choice," said Teruo. "But it wasn't a choice you were willin' to make. And so here you are."

Deidara's face darkened. "Well – I don't regret it. I'd do it again."

"I'll ask you next week if you regret it," said Teruo. "No, wait – I can't – 'cause you'll be dead."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, man…"

Teruo chuckled, but it was a sad chuckle. Ino, who was on the periphery of this conversation (good whores let the men do the talking, right?) thought that she could almost like this Teruo guy; he was kind, in a mean way, if that made sense…

"What're you gonna to do?" asked Teruo.

"I'll figure it out," said Deidara.

"You had a year to figure it out," said Teruo. "Now you got six days left."

"I know," said Deidara.

"You're dead," said Teruo.

"I'm not."

"I'll miss you," sighed Teruo. He turned to Ino. "Best in the business, you know, for blowin' shit up."

"Oh?" said Ino with a blank smile.

"Now where'll I go for the mob contracts?" asked Teruo, turning back to Deidara. "Hm? Slim Jim? O'Neal? They aren't the same…"

Deidara shrugged.

Teruo swirled his drink, looked around, and leaned forward.

"Though," he said in a voice so low it was difficult to make out over the music, "there is one job that would solve all your problems. You saw it?"

"Yeah," said Deidara. "But – assassinations aren't my line. You know that."

"So make it your line," said Teruo. He produced a cigar, lit it, and regarded Deidara significantly.

"I'm not equipped for that kind of shit," said Deidara.

Teruo shrugged. "They want it _accidental_. You can fix something up. There hasn't been a gas leak in New York in a while. We're overdue, wouldn't you say? A nice localized explosion?"

Ino kept her eyes on the glowing end of Teruo's cigar and fought to keep her expression neutral because the two of them were now chit-chatting about the possibility of killing her father.

"Too much collateral," said Deidara, shaking his head.

Teruo studied him. "You got your principles, son. I understand that. I respect it. But you're also running out of time…"

Deidara ran his gloved hands through his hair and Ino had to admire the acting. At least, she hoped it was acting. "Hundreds would die."

"But you get a fuckin' payday," said Teruo. "Ten million."

"Fuck," said Deidara.

"Yeah," said Teruo. "There's been a lot of interest. But folks are skittish, you know, after the McTavert bust. No one's signed on yet…"

"It does seem too good to be true."

Teruo shrugged. "I think it's legit."

"You think, or you know?" asked Deidara.

Teruo took another sip of his drink and held it in his mouth before swallowing.

"I know," he said at length.

Ino's gaze flicked to Teruo. Her fingers were itching to latch around his thick neck and ask, you know? How do you know? Who is it? _Who is it, you fat bastard?_

She played with her empty shot glass instead, as though a little bored with this conversation. Teruo noticed the gesture and waved over another shot, which Ino was barely able to swallow.

Deidara rubbed his face. "Ten mil, man. Who even has that kind of money?"

"It's legit," said Teruo. "Who gives a damn about the who?"

"'Cause it's too good, that's why I give a damn," said Deidara. "Why do you think no one's biting?"

"It'll only be a matter of time before someone does," said Teruo. "Won't be long. If it's not you, it'll be someone else who'll become a rich motherfucker."

Deidara rested his chin in his gloved hands and sighed into his palms. "What do you know about whoever's offering this?

"He calls himself the little prince."

"That's a shit name."

"It's all I got."

The waitress wandered back to the table, cleared the empties, and whispered something into Teruo's ear.

"Shit," said Teruo, pushing back his chair. "You tell me if you change your mind, son. Kakuzu just arrived. I can't be seen talking to you – you're a dead man walking."

Deidara looked with dread towards the entrance. He was afraid – which meant that, instantly, Ino was terrified. Terrified and slightly drunk; those three shots had gotten to work _fast_.

"Bye, sweetheart," said Teruo to Ino. He pulled the flower out of his buttonhole and gave it to her. "You come find me when this guy's dead. I'll take care of you."

With these parting words, Teruo disappeared into the crowd. There was a moment when Ino thought that Deidara was about launch her off of his lap and bolt – and then a shadow loomed blackly across their table.

Ino's mouth hung open as she took in the man who had cast it: a man immensely tall and broad, peering down at them with unnaturally bright green eyes. Like Deidara and his long sleeves and gloves, this man was overdressed for the summer weather: his hair was covered by a skullcap and his face was muffled by a scarf – and over everything he wore a heavy trench coat that reached his boots.

The man was simultaneously so bizarre and so intimidating that Ino wanted to skitter away and leave Deidara to deal with whatever bullshit he'd gotten involved in; it was _soooo_ not her problem right now…

"Hey, Kakuzu," said Deidara in a voice somewhat smaller than Ino was used to hearing. (This, combined with her nerves and her tipsiness, made her want to giggle, but she heroically managed not to.)

"My money," said the man in a gravelly voice.

"I told you you'd get it next week," said Deidara.

Kakuzu leaned forwards. There was something frightening in his posture – something of profound, long-standing irritation, something of a temper about to snap…

Ino, under the onslaught of this rising tension, curled herself into Deidara a little more, which drew Kakuzu's attention to her.

"Who's this?" he asked.

"A girl," said Deidara.

"Do you have the money to be playing with _girls?_ "

"I told you I'd get it to you next week," said Deidara. "So I'll get it to you next week."

Those unnatural green eyes lingered on Ino; on her hair, on her posture, on the grace that even a few shots of sewer moonshine hadn't erased from her movements.

"She's more upscale than you can afford," said Kakuzu.

"I only have one life," said Deidara, running a hand down Ino's thigh, "so I wanna live it."

Again Kakuzu stared; this time his eyes bore into Deidara's so powerfully that Ino thought she might feel the heat of it, if she were to put her hand out between them…

"Perhaps a wise decision," said Kakuzu, turning away, "because Friday, barring a miracle, that life is _over._ "

"We'll see," said Deidara with more arrogance than was, in Ino's opinion, strictly necessary.

Kakuzu whipped around; both Deidara and Ino flinched.

"You seem pretty _convinced_ for a kid with, what, 300 grand to his name? Who owes me _millions_?" Kakuzu leaned on the table; his fists pressing into the wood made it creak. "What are you plotting, little bomber boy?"

"Nothing," said Deidara.

"You gonna skip town?"

"No."

"You got a job lined up?"

"Looking."

"You thinking of the Yamanaka job?"

"Maybe."

Ino swallowed again and stared at the floor: oh my god, if Kakuzu knew the Yamanaka daughter was sitting right in front of him…

"Don't touch that job," said Kakuzu. "It's bullshit."

"Is it?"

"Don't be stupid, boy. It's _ten million_. That doesn't happen."

"You don't know that," said Deidara.

"It smells wrong."

"Maybe," said Deidara. "Or maybe you just want it for yourself."

Ino was certain that Kakuzu was about to swing one of those fists forward and take off Deidara's jaw.

Instead, he leaned back and barked out a mirthless laugh. "If I did, it would already be done."

( _Thank god,_ thought Ino, _thank god thank god thank god_.)

"So who the hell puts out hits like this?" asked Deidara.

"Exactly," said Kakuzu. He turned away. "Six days, Deidara."

Deidara seemed ready to spit out another retort, but Ino's fingers on his mouth stopped him. Instead, all he managed was "Mff," which was amply drowned out by the thump of the bass.

"Will you _shut up_ and let him leave," hissed Ino. Then, with a gasp, she pulled her hand away. "Ew, did you just _lick_ me?"

"Now he's gone and he got the last word in, that miserly asshole _…_ "

"What is _wrong_ with you? Who cares about the last word? Don't you like having _teeth_? He could _pulverize_ you…"

Deidara watched the tall figure of Kakuzu vanish into the crowd. He blinked, took a deep breath, and leaned his forehead into Ino's shoulder. "Yeah. Okay. So maybe adrenaline makes me stupid…"

"Incredibly," said Ino.

"I need a drink," said Deidara.

VVV

As they meandered through dark streets back to his apartment, Ino and Deidara took turns being the leader and turns getting lost. They argued about which way was the right way and which was the wrong way, and who was drunker (probably Deidara), and who had the worst sense of direction in the world (definitely Ino).

They approached a building that seemed, to their inebriated eyes, to be the right one.

"It _is,_ " said Ino as they stumbled into the smelly lobby. "There's the _deathtrap_ …"

"Good," said Deidara, yanking elevator's rusted doors open. "Almossst home."

"M'not getting in there," said Ino. "Not today…"

"Get in," said Deidara.

"No," said Ino, turning away. "Where's the stairs?"

"Back there," said Deidara, pointing into some dark recess with an unsteady hand. "I'ma tell you something, though…"

"What?"

"Some units don't have working toilets any more, yeah? So they just drain it all into the stairwell…but if you wanna climb fifteen stories of shit, be my fuckin' guest."

Ino's hands covered her mouth in horror.

" _No_ ," she breathed.

"Yes," said Deidara. "I'm goin' up. Bye…"

" _Wait!_ "

Deidara laughed at the sight of Ino clambering into the lift with him. "Look whose prissy ass decided to show up."

"Fifteen stories of shit," said Ino, holding onto Deidara's collar to steady herself. "I can't…this is the lesser…I can't…"

The elevator door slid to a close with some assistance from Deidara and he and Ino stared at each other in its flickering orange light and swayed on unsteady feet.

Ino blinked in gentle drunken wonder. "Hey – look – I'm not panicking right now…?"

"That's 'cause…you're completely sloshed," said Deidara. He reached out with a black-gloved finger that wove a bit in front of Ino's face before he managed to tap her on the nose. He looked at his hand. "Woah. That was _way_ harder than I thought it was gonna be…"

"Jesus, you're trashed…"

"Yeah. H-hey – why isn't this piece of shit moving?"

"You forgot to press the button," pointed out Ino after a careful study of the button panel.

"…Oh," said Deidara.

He did so. It only took him four attempts to hit number fifteen (seventeen, twenty, sixteen, and B were the victims of his unsteady fingers) and, finally, the old machine heaved its way upwards.

"Does it…normally make that noise?" asked Ino when a distant metal-on-metal screech rang out.

Deidara was tilting his head to listen. "You know, I'm not sure…"

The screech grew louder and then, far away above them in the elevator shaft, something clanged hard.

The elevator shuddered for a moment and then stopped moving altogether.

"It…stopped," said Ino.

"Yeah…"

Ino looked around and asked, with a beautiful kind of drunken innocence, "This is a nightmare, isn't it?"

"Uh, no, it's–"

"It is," said Ino, clutching at Deidara's collar, the beginnings of the old claustrophobic dread in her eyes. "Say it's just a dream. _Say it._ "

"Okay, okay, it's just a dream – uh, you're not looking so good…"

"It's just a dream and I'm going to wake up soon," said Ino, struggling to keep her breathing regular.

"Yeah, you are, and it's going to be fine…"

"It's going to be fine," repeated Ino – but the dread had set in, and now she couldn't believe the words. The walls were so close, so awful, and the ceiling was so low, and they were stuck, they weren't moving – they were going to run out of air, they were going to die here, she was going to die in a piss-soaked elevator. She wasn't ready to die – she hadn't said her goodbyes, she still had so much to do, she didn't deserve this kind of death and neither did Deidara, really, he wasn't that bad – and her father, who was going to save her father…

"You aren't going to die in a piss-soaked elevator," said Deidara from close to Ino's ear, which made her realize that she was climbing him – and also, she had said those things out loud.

Both of these things were embarrassing. She couldn't unsay the words but she could ease off on the climbing.

At least, that was the theory…Ino thought hard about releasing her fierce hold on Deidara, but her arms were knotted around his neck and her legs were locked at the ankles at his back and the irrationally afraid part of her brain that was dominating her right now said, no, okay, this is fine, this is how we will die, clinging to this man like this, and perhaps his body will cushion ours when we plummet to our death so we won't be too malformed when they find our corpses, hah, no, who are we kidding, this will be a closed-casket funeral _shitshitshit_ –

"We aren't going to plummet to our deaths," said Deidara, thus informing Ino that she had, again, said those things aloud.

Something creaked and the elevator tilted violently to one side. Deidara and Ino had one chance to exchange a look – concern on his part, horror on hers – and then the lights went out.

They tumbled into the corner where the floor met the wall: now the piss-soaked floor was at a forty-five degree angle from the ground and it was almost impossible to stand up.

Ino struggled and fought to regain her footing in the dark anyway because that's what panicky claustrophobic drunks do. "Not going to plummet? _Not going to plummet?_ We're _plummeting_!"

"Ouch – quit stepping on me – sit _still_ ," said Deidara, grabbing at Ino's legs in the dark.

"No," said Ino. "Let me go…!"

"Stop _moving._ "

Ino struggled until she had exhausted herself – which took all of a minute – and then she collapsed where Deidara was already awkwardly wedged into the bottom-most corner of the elevator.

"Ow, fuck," said Deidara.

"I can't – can't get up – which way is even up?" said Ino, writhing around and trying not to poke him with a heel or a knee or an elbow and therefore managing to do all of those things and more. "Oh my god, I can't see anything – where's my phone – where's your phone – need some light–"

"Stop – fucking – _moving_ ," said Deidara, trapping her arms with his hands and her hips with his thighs.

There was another creak and both of them froze.

"I'm going to puke," said Ino.

" _Don't._ "

Ino proceeded to hyperventilate, which, at least, held back the puke. "Oh my god, oh my god, _oh my god_ …we're going to drop down ten floors and be smashed to _bits_ …!"

"We're _not_ – that's not how elevators work, you idiot," said Deidara, blowing the heat of his beery breath onto her face.

"Like a drunk bomb boy would know how elevators work!" hissed Ino.

"Like a useless fucking princess would any better!" said Deidara.

"I'm not _useless_ –!"

"Yes you are – you can't even be in an elevator without panicking!"

Ino found the front of Deidara's shirt in the pitch black and shook him. "Are you _serious_? _Look_ at where we are right now–!"

"I can't see anything, actually–"

"We're stuck! In! The! Elevator! Was I not right to be panicking? _Pre-emptively panicking_?"

"Are we dead? _No._ "

"We're _about to be_."

"No we aren't. Calm the fuck down," said Deidara. "Someone's going to need the elevator and it's not going to work and they'll call someone – okay? 'Cause no one wants to take the shit stairs."

" _When_ will someone need the elevator?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"It's four in the morning!"

" _Soon!_ "

There was nothing much else for them to say at this point, so they shuffled into more comfortable positions – well, Ino shuffled into a more comfortable position on top of Deidara, and she didn't give a damn if he was comfortable – and they breathed at each other.

"Great," said Deidara into the darkness. "Now I'm hard."

Ino chose that moment to have the most ladylike, gentle little puke, right down the front of his shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

VVV

  
(stunning art by tricneu@tumblr)

VVV

Rescue came in the form of a man that Deidara called Bob the Janitor but Ino was convinced that he was actually a troll, with his long arms and his weird gait and his giant mane of hair. She kept these thoughts to herself, however, because the troll was strong enough to pull the crooked door open and yank her and the barf-covered Deidara out of the elevator, and she didn't want to insult her saviour.

It was with an attitude far more subdued than usual that Ino tottered into Deidara's apartment. She even let him shower first because he was the pukier of the two of them. When he was done, she went into the bathroom and pulled off her dress and rinsed off the worst of it.

"Laundry?" said Ino, coming out of the bathroom and holding up the pukey dress.

"Pile by the door," said Deidara, glancing up at her from the kitchen sink. He turned back to the sink – and then, slowly, turned to look at her again.

"What?" said Ino.

"Nothing," said Deidara.

Ino looked down at herself and took note that she had walked out of the bathroom wearing only her underwear and her heels – and those slutty fishnets.

She picked at the fishnets and decided that she was too drunk to care.

"I'm thirsty," said Ino, wandering over to where Deidara stood.

"Here," said Deidara, holding out the cup he'd been drinking from.

Ino wrinkled her nose, muttered something about cooties, and drank anyway. She returned the empty cup and noticed, even through her booze-induced haze, that Deidara was making a determined effort not to look at her.

"What's wrong?" she said when he kept avoiding her gaze.

"Nothing."

"Are you pissed 'cause I puked on you?"

"No."

"I'm sorry," said Ino. "I warned you like, five times…"

"It's fine."

"Then why are you being weird?"

"I'm not being weird."

"Yes you are," said Ino, pushing herself between Deidara and the sink to study him with the eyes of a thoughtful drunk. "You're being _super weird_ …why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because – because you're half-naked."

Ino tapped at her lip with a fingertip. "But…isn't that, like, a _good_ reason to look at me?"

Deidara blinked and didn't have time to respond before Ino's tipsy attention drifted to his chest. "Hey. _You're_ half-naked too."

"Yeah. Because you puked on my shirt."

"Right," said Ino. "You have, like, a _lot_ of tattoos…"

"Really," deadpanned Deidara. "I hadn't noticed."

Ino waved away his sass and surveyed the ink that swirled across his chest and down his arms.

"You know," said Ino, "I don't like tattoos. They're trashy and ugly–"

"I _so_ don't care about your opinion–"

Ino hushed him with her forefinger on his lips. "But – what I was _about_ to say was, these are different…"

"Oh," said Deidara against her finger. "Then continue."

"No," sniffed Ino, turning away. "You don't care about my opinion."

Deidara pulled her back to him. "Now I care. Tell me."

Tipsy Ino was more lenient than sober Ino; she forgave him with the most gracious little nod, like she'd just pardoned some monstrous crime with gorgeous, angelic, beatific generosity. Then she held Deidara at arm's length and studied the rolling skyscape stretched across his chest and down his arms – curling clouds and feathers, wing-bursts and sunbursts of many colours…

She stepped around him to look at his back, where those skies in sunset colours continued among soft peaks of clouds. On his right shoulder blade, a flock of birds disappeared into the sun.

"It's so _pretty_ ," said Ino, stepping around to face him again and hovering her fingers an inch from his skin. "The way the – the lines are so fine, and the colours are all washing into each other – it's like watercolour…? And this blue, and these pinks and peaches – so exactly like a summer sky…And the clouds unravelling like this, and these feathers and wings twining and opening and then – this sun."

She stepped back. "It's – it's so different, and so pretty…why?"

"'Cause I designed it," said Deidara, "and I'm a genius."

Ino looked up at him and his pleased, verging on smug, face. "You ass – you were fishing for compliments this whole time…!"

"Yeah," said Deidara with a wide smile.

"I changed my mind: it's hideous," said Ino.

"Liar."

Ino waved her hands towards his chest with airy contempt. "I'll pay for you to have it all lasered off."

"Sure you will–"

"Who's that?" interrupted Ino.

Deidara glanced down: there was a woman's face tattooed on his hip in faint mauve ink so delicate and fine that it was almost invisible among the clouds.

"None of your business," said Deidara, tugging his trousers up so that they covered more of the face.

"A _girl_ ," said Ino. "Who is she? Is she pretty?"

"Uh–"

Ino batted her eyelashes and held her hands together. "Do you _love_ her?"

"In a way, I guess–"

"What do you mean, _in a way, you guess_? What kind of dickish answer is that? This poor girl–"

"She's not a _girl_ , she's – it's Saint Barbara – okay? Anyway, it's none of your goddamn business–"

"Saint _who_?"

"Barbara."

" _Barbara_?" repeated Ino with a laugh. "Who is she, like a housewife from the 50s? What's she the patron saint of? Quilting? _Potlucks?_ "

"People like me, actually–"

"I didn't know felons had a patron saint."

"–Artillerymen," continued Deidara. "Armourers. Miners. Tunnellers. People who work with explosives."

"Oh," said Ino. "…Are you Catholic?"

" _No_ , not that it's any of your goddamn business. But I'll use any protection I can get–"

"Makes sense," said Ino with a thoughtful nod. "You never know when a tunnel is going to attack you."

Deidara glared at her and turned away.

"Are you mad?" asked Ino.

"Yes. Fuck off."

Ino grew vexed because she felt that she didn't deserve this bitchiness. "Wow. I was just teasing you…"

"I told you it was none of your goddamn business like five minutes ago."

Ino flounced over to the mattress, kicked off her heels, and stretched out grouchily. "Tss. Fuck off yourself."

Something soft landed on her legs: Deidara had tossed her a sweatshirt.

"I don't want this," said Ino.

She kicked the sweatshirt off, fully aware that he had just done something nice as a quasi-apology for snapping at her, and also that she was being petty about it.

"You're gonna get cold tonight if that's all you're wearing," said Deidara with a gesture to Ino's Professional Slut 3000 attire.

Ino rolled her eyes. "It's July. And you have no AC. I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," said Deidara.

" _You_ wear it," said Ino, though really this was just an excuse to lob the sweatshirt back at him as hard as she could.

Deidara caught it before it hit him in the face. " _I_ don't need it."

"You're wearing less than I am."

"What? I'm wearing pants," said Deidara. "Not – not the world's tiniest fucking bra and panties…!"

Ino looked down. "You think _these_ are tiny?"

"Are they _not_ tiny?"

"This is work underwear. This is, like, the least sexy underwear I own."

"Oh."

"Did you not see what the skanks at the club were wearing?" asked Ino. "Boobs popping out everywhere…"

"I wasn't looking at the skanks," said Deidara.

"You weren't? What the hell were you looking at? Did you have your eyes closed? They were _everywhere_ …I'm pretty sure I saw one of Chlamydia's nipples…"

Deidara ignored Ino in favour of disappearing to brush his teeth.

"Do you have an extra toothbrush?" called Ino. "I have barf breath. I should probably shower, too…"

"I might, somewhere in these piles of crap," said Deidara from the bathroom.

So Ino joined Deidara in the bathroom and rustled around the boxes of random shit that were stacked up in there and found many interesting things.

"What's this?" said Ino, holding up a silver tube that looked like it might hold an especially fancy toothbrush, maybe.

"Blasting cap, put it back."

"A what?"

"Like a detonator."

"What's this little box?"

"RDX."

"What?"

"It makes C-4 go boom," said Deidara around his toothbrush.

"Why do you have brass knuckles?"

"No reason."

"Wow, this is a pointy-ass potato peeler."

"Ballistic knife, do _not_ touch that button…"

"And this? Ooh, is it a _shiv_?"

Deidara almost choked on his toothpaste. "…That's a palette knife, you idiot."

"Oh. For painting."

"Yeah, for painting," said Deidara. "I mean, you _could_ stab someone with it, I guess…"

Ino promptly tested out this theory on Deidara's arm. "That's for calling me an idiot."

Deidara grabbed her stabby hand and drooled some toothpaste onto it. "Enjoy your cooties."

Ino gasped, dropped the palette knife, and studied the foam dribbling down her palm.

Then she reached up, slowly.

"Don't you dare," said Deidara, watching her hand.

"Oh, I _so_ dare," said Ino.

"No," said Deidara.

"Yes," said Ino, and she wiped her hand in his hair.

"You little fucking–!"

Ino shrieked as she ran away and, when Deidara backed her into the corner by the mattress, she wished she'd stolen the ballistic knife to defend herself, but instead all she had was the pillow, which she used to great effect by smashing it beautifully into his face. Then she discovered that the cat had been hiding among the blankets and she threw that at him too, and then she ran back to the bathroom and locked herself in.

"I found the spare toothbrush," she announced through the door some time later.

"I'm going to kill you when you come out of there," came Deidara's voice.

"I have a detonator," said Ino.

"You don't know how to use it."

"I'll figure it out."

"Please don't."

Ino took her sweet time in the bathroom. It was a mark of how low she had sunk in the last forty-eight hours that she was vastly appreciative of the luxury of peeing without anyone attached to her foot.

"I'm going to shower," she declared through the door. "Do you have an extra towel?"

"No."

"I have to use your wet one? Ugh…"

Deidara didn't answer.

"I _heard_ you roll your eyes," said Ino, and she was rewarded with a laugh through the door. "And what the hell kind of off-brand shampoo is this? Happy Panda? It's two-in-one? Jesus, this shouldn't even be legal, it's a _travesty_ …"

VVV

Upon completing her shower, Ino was pleased to discover that Deidara was in possession of a hairdryer. First she used it to dry her hair – a twenty-minute endeavor, because she had a lot of hair – and then she tried to use it to dry her bra and panties, which she had washed by hand in the shower like some kind of savage. However, the hairdryer was not used to this kind of abuse and it crapped out with a sizzle and a sigh without having remotely dried her underwear.

Ino opened the bathroom door a crack to announce this to Deidara. "Hey, um – I kind of killed your hairdryer."

Deidara was lying on the mattress playing with his phone. He lowered it to glare at her. "You… what?"

"It just died on me, I dunno…"

"I've had that thing for like five years and it's never ' _just died._ '"

"Whatever," said Ino, stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in her towel to retrieve that balled-up sweatshirt that Deidara had offered to her and that she had previously rejected. "I'll buy you a new one. One that doesn't suck."

"That's not the point–"

"Or you just buy yourself one. Kakuzu said you had like 300k – why are you living like such a poorsie?"

"That money's all tied up."

"Tied up? In what? Stocks?"

"None of your business."

Ino did not push him on this since he had already bitten her head off once that evening for prying into things that weren't her business. She popped back into the bathroom to pull the sweatshirt on and came back out again.

"Holy shit," she said, looking down. "I cannot believe someone actually owns Vengaboys merchandise."

Deidara watched her meander towards him – her bare legs, her hair tumbling down her back rather than in its perpetual bun, the oversized sweatshirt – and his mouth hung slightly open.

"What?" said Ino.

"Nothing," said Deidara, turning back to his phone. "The – uh, the Vengabus looks good on you."

" _Yay._ "

Deidara's gaze flicked back up as she approached the mattress. "…You aren't wearing a bra,"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," said Ino in the same bitchy deadpan he'd used with her earlier. "Stop staring at my nipples, perv. If your shitty drier hadn't crapped out before I could dry my bra _or_ my panties…"

"Great, so you're not wearing panties, either," said Deidara. There was something in the way he said this that sounded like – like his mouth had run dry, or something, but Ino was too preoccupied by her fall from grace to pay attention.

"I know. How is this my life?" said Ino with genuine sadness as she dropped onto the mattress. "I have sunk so low."

"There's always lower," said Deidara darkly as he turned back to his phone.

Ino edged herself next to him to peer at his screen. "Any news on that posting?"

"No," said Deidara, shifting to put more space between them.

"Stop scooting away – I wanna see."

"No–"

"Or – _or!_ Can I have my phone back?"

"Yeah, you can have it back," said Deidara.

" _Finally_ ," said Ino, sitting up. "Where is it?"

"Still in the car."

"The car?" repeated Ino.

"Yes," said Deidara.

"The car. As in the Prius."

"Yes."

"The one that's downstairs."

Deidara looked up at the ceiling pensively, like he had to think about this, you know, because there might be another car up here…"That would be it, yes."

"But I can't get down there – the elevator's broken and the stairs are, like, a glistening waterfall of shit–"

"Poetic," said Deidara. "And, yeah. Sucks for you."

Ino lay back down with a sigh of the utmost suffering. "Ugh. I _need_ my phone. I'm having _withdrawals_. Pass me yours–"

"No."

"What are you even looking up that's so damn important?"

"Porn."

" _Ew_. No you aren't."

"Yeah I am."

Ino shuffled in closer to look. "No you aren't – show me–"

Deidara scooted away as far as the wall would let him. "No, what are you doing – you wanna watch porn together? Jesus…"

"No – but I don't believe for a second you're actually watching any," said Ino, grabbing at his phone.

"Yeah I am, and it's too dirty for you," said Deidara, pushing her hands away.

"Too dirty? Yeah, right – it's probably cat videos–"

Deidara wrestled her seeking hands away again. "Nah – it's filthy – you are, like, way too innocent for this shit–"

"As _if_ …what is it? Horse porn? Midgets? Incestuous gang bang?"

Deidara turned to her with wide eyes. "Wh–? Is that what _you're_ into?"

"No," said Ino, rolling in closer, "it was just the dirtiest shit I could think of off the top of my head. Was I close?"

"Not even remotely–"

Ino redoubled her grabby efforts, even more curious now because if it was porn, then what the hell was it, and if it wasn't, then what the hell was he defending so vigorously? "Show me – what's dirtier than that? Oh my god, are you into weird poop stuff? It's weird poop stuff, isn't it…"

"No, it's not poop stuff, fuck off – get off, stop – _give that back, you little_ –!"

Ino caught hold of the phone for all of eight seconds, which was long enough for her to see the following text exchange on the screen:

 _**Sasori:** _ _girl still there?_

 _**Deidara:** _ _yeah_

 _**Sasori:** _ _gonna get your millions?_

 _**Deidara:** _ _hope so. Tmr_

 _**Sasori:** _ _dont forget my cut_

 _**Sasori:** _ _if u fail ill come to ur funeral_

 _**Deidara:** _ _fuck you_

 _**Deidara:** _ _take care of my mother for me_

 _**Deidara:** _ _…holy jesus the girl just came out of the bathroom looking like a friggin_

Just as Ino was about to scroll down, Deidara swiped the phone back from her.

"Looking like a what?" said Ino. "Like a friggin' _what_?"

"This is a private fucking conversation," said Deidara, holding the phone well away from Ino and her snatchy hands.

Ino's mood veered from playful to grouchy. "What did you call me, you _jerk_? Kicking me when I'm down? When I'm dressed like a teenaged boy from 1999 and my hair's been washed with two-in-one chlorine and drain cleaner?"

"It wasn't anything mean, Jesus, stop getting so pissy–"

"I will get as pissy as I want when some asshole is being an _asshole_ –"

"It was something _nice_ ," said Deidara.

Ino crossed her arms. "Then what was it?"

"I'm not telling you," said Deidara. "So fuck off."

"But – you said it was _nice_."

"Yeah," said Deidara. "That's _exactly_ why I'm not telling you."

"Tell me."

"No. Like you need more fuel for your massive ego."

" _Tell me_ ," said Ino. "I promise I'm still drunk enough to get into a fight over this."

"Go ahead and get into a fight," said Deidara.

Ino's subsequent attempt to get into a fight was pathetic at best – each weak blow was met by a black-clad palm blocking it, and then, when she tried to bite Deidara's hand, he popped her in the face with the pillow.

Ino sat back with a sound of frustration and slumped against the wall. "You're an ass."

"If you knew what I'd said, you wouldn't say such an unkind thing about me," sighed Deidara in a put-upon way.

"So tell me."

"No. I'm done being nice to you."

"You're _never_ nice to me," said Ino. "This is the one time you were nice to me – _allegedly_ nice to me – and you won't even _prove it_ …"

Deidara glared at her over his phone.

"That was a look of concession," said Ino. She sidled up to him. "I'm right, right? Admit I'm right."

"Do you always have to win arguments…?"

"I'm a lawyer," said Ino. "So, yes."

Deidara looked at his phone as though weighing the substance of the remainder of the message versus Ino's continuing whining.

He handed it to her with a black look. "Read this. And then shut the fuck up about it."

"Okay."

"You agree to shut the fuck up about it after?" said Deidara, not quite letting go of the phone.

" _Yes_ ," said Ino, and Deidara let go of the phone.

So Ino read:

 _**Deidara:** _ _…holy jesus the girl just came out of the bathroom looking like a friggin_

 _**Deidara:** _ _real life birth of venus_

 _**Sasori:** _ _?_

 _**Deidara:** _ _hair down_

 _**Deidara:** _ _LONG hair_

 _**Deidara:** _ _my sweatshirt no bra_

 _**Sasori:** _ _…wow_

 _**Deidara:** _ _stupid hot_

 _**Deidara:** _ _is this real life_

 _**Deidara:** _ _?_

Ino finished reading and felt a splendid blush make its way across her cheekbones. "Oh…"

Deidara let her stew in embarrassment and awkwardness for a while, which she did, because she deserved it. She handed him the phone without looking at him. "I – sorry – I shouldn't have insisted."

Deidara took the phone back and said nothing, which only exasperated Ino's discomfiture.

"I'm just going to lie down here and pretend to be asleep," said Ino. "Or dead."

She slid down under the blanket with movements less graceful than usual because she was half-paralyzed by embarrassment. Which was, Ino reflected as she hid her face in the pillow, kind of weird, because she was the recipient of daily (at least) compliments on her beauty, and was therefore accustomed to them and more than capable of accepting them graciously.

Ino heard Deidara reach to plug his phone in and then lie down next to her. She bit her lip: perhaps the difference between this exchange and the everyday compliments was that Deidara hated her, and so therefore such thoughts coming from him were rarer and that much more powerful? At least, she thought he hated her. Like she hated him. (At least, she thought she hated him…?)

And another thing: he hadn't expected those compliments to find their way to her – and so there was this lovely, unusual sincerity to them, from that first _holy jesus_ to the _stupid hot_.

Oh god – he thought she was stupid hot. Oh god, why was it making her blush all over again.

"Last person in bed is supposed to turn off the lights," commented Deidara to the room at large.

Ino welcomed this information because she disagreed with it, which meant that they could have a fight about the lights and therefore move on from this awkwardness. (This was the kind of behavioural trait that made her an excellent attorney – aggressive deflection when faced with something difficult – but, on a more personal level, kind of a pain in the ass.)

"Normally I'd agree with you," said Ino, "but…this isn't a bed, so the normal rules don't apply."

"Go turn off the lights," said Deidara, more sternly this time, like that was going to impress her at all. "And did you steal my pillow again?

"No," said Ino, "and yes."

"Turn them off," said Deidara. "And that's _my_ pillow."

Ino turned over and ignored him and held the pillow more tightly.

She felt his knee in her back.

"Don't you dare," said Ino.

Deidara proceeded to knee her off the mattress.

"Fine, I'll just sleep here," said Ino from her new position on the floor. "Not like it's any less comfortable than that piece of crap…"

Deidara swore at her, groped around the mattress, found a half-full can of wasabi peas, and lobbed it at the light switch with surprising accuracy.

"There," he said when the lights went out.

"Wow," said Ino.

"Now go the fuck to sleep."

Silence fell.

After a long moment, Ino could admit to herself that she had lied: the floor was definitely less comfortable than the mattress. So now the question was, would Deidara put up a fuss if she tried to climb back onto it?

She decided to let him fall asleep before attempting it. With the number of beers that he'd chugged post-Kakuzu, that wouldn't take too long…

After ten minutes, Deidara's breathing became slow and regular. Ino eased herself back onto the mattress as quietly as possible. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief, because she'd done it without him waking up, when his voice made her jump: "Thought the floor was just as comfortable as this piece of crap."

"I've reconsidered my decision," said Ino with, for her, a great degree of humility.

"I want my pillow back," said Deidara.

"But I need it," said Ino.

"You don't _need_ it."

"Yes I do," said Ino. "I have neck problems."

"Liar."

"Anyway, _you_ don't need it either."

"Maybe _I_ have neck problems," said Deidara.

"Liar."

"Give," said Deidara.

"No," said Ino, hugging the pillow with great ferocity lest he try to steal it.

"You had it last night."

"And? I don't see the relevance."

"It's called _sharing_."

"That word isn't really in my lexicon," said Ino.

She felt Deidara's hand grip the pillow and clenched her arms down on it, hard.

He actually laughed as he pulled it out of her grip. "Man, you are weak as fuck."

"Hey…"

"Maybe you should do spin classes, like, for your arms…"

" _Hey!_ "

"I'm putting this here," said Deidara, and Ino heard the pillow being plopped down between them, "and we can _share._ "

"Fine," said Ino. "We'll _share._ "

She moved towards the middle of the mattress and put her head on half of the pillow, and made sure that her considerable mass of hair was spread over the other half.

" _Really_ ," said Deidara.

Ino pretended to be asleep and did not respond further. She felt Deidara lift her hair out of the way (with remarkable and unexpected gentleness) and then the pillow shifted a bit as he edged onto it.

And then, finally, they fell asleep.

VVV

  
(Art by the amazing disperfectionzm at tumblr)

VVV

Perhaps it was because night had perhaps been colder than either of them had expected, or perhaps it was because of the forced proximity of stubborn pillow-sharing – whatever the reason, Ino woke up an hour later to find herself, unless she was _quite_ mistaken, spooning with Deidara.

She opened an eye (oh god, the moonlight was so bright – oh god, she was going to be so hungover) and studied her surroundings to determine the truth of the matter. Yes, she was indeed in Deidara's apartment. There was the resident rat, gnawing on the microwave's power cord while the cat watched benevolently. This was Deidara's shitty mattress pushing a popped coil into her hip. That was his breathing she could feel against her neck. And in front of her, yes, that was most definitely his tattooed arm entwined with hers in a wash of swirling sunset hues.

Ino was a split-second away from catapulting herself off of the mattress when she realized that, at some point during the night, he had taken off his gloves.

Curiosity stilled her.

She looked.

And she discovered, with a little gasp – and a thrill of revulsion – why he always wore them.

There, hidden by his half-curled fingers, was his palm – or what used to be his palm. Now it was a mess of mangled tissue – of red and white twists of skin and flesh.

Ino stared, simultaneously fascinated and repelled. The scar gaped across the width of his hand, three inches wide and an inch high, stretched into a ghastly kind of grin – and the more she gazed at it, the more it grew dreadful and painful to look at.

She turned away and stared instead at his forearm, against which her own hand rested, fine-boned, white, and perfect against his tanned, tatted-up, work-worn skin. There were other marks on his arm, she could see them now, partially obscured by the tattoos – long white lines, deep pits and grooves, the shine of burns, and prominent veins crisscrossing it all. Things that told the story of a life much harder than hers – she who had been born into wealth and lived in an enchanted bubble, and so could contrast her flawless hand so vividly against his…

"Like a fucking porcelain doll," said Deidara into her ear.

Ino's heart skipped a beat: she hadn't realized that he was awake and that he, too, had been studying this dichotomy.

He brushed his knuckles along her forearm and up to the end of her fingertips. And part of Ino – the squeamish, disease-fearing, pansified part of her – wanted to flinch away, because she'd seen the mutilated underside of that hand and she didn't want that goriness anywhere near her–

"How are you so soft," whispered Deidara. "It makes no sense."

Then the petty, squeamish, pansified part of Ino was quashed by a swell of something so unexpected that she couldn't quite place it. Compassion, empathy, pity – something along those lines, something that made her quell her desire to flinch, something that made her not say, _disgusting, don't touch me…_

Deidara dropped his hand onto the mattress, palm down, so she couldn't see the mess of it. Across his knuckles danced faded clouds of light blue ink.

And her hand lay beside his, yes, like a fucking porcelain doll's, with fingers that never lifted anything heavier than a pen or touched anything rougher than her ivory piano keys, and skin as soft as all of the expensive Parisian creams in the world could make it, and manicured nails in Monaco white.

She pulled her hand into her chest, embarrassed, somehow, at its perfection.

"You want to ask what happened," said Deidara.

"Yes."

"Don't."

"Okay."

VVV

  
(incredible art by tricneu@tumblr) 

VVV

Silence fell. Ino watched Deidara's hand make a fist into the mattress, so tight that his knuckles grew white through the blue clouds of ink.

Then he relaxed his grip and sighed into her hair.

"I fucked around with silver nitride."

"Oh."

"It's a contact explosive."

"Oh."

"I was coked up."

" _Oh_."

"Yeah."

Deidara shifted his other arm – the one that was currently serving Ino as a pillow – and she saw, briefly, the matching scar lashing its way across his other palm, before he pulled it away.

"You could've died," whispered Ino.

"I know."

"I'm – I'm amazed you didn't lose more mobility – or fingers…"

"Believe me," said Deidara into her hair. "I lost a lot…"

He let the sentence trail off. Again his fingers dug into the mattress and Ino, watching the skin stretch over his knuckles, understood the extent to which this slow, whispered conversation – this somber pillow-talk about him blowing up his own hands while off his face on cocaine – was a painful thing.

Her lips were parted, ready to form vague platitudes and perhaps words of pity. But as she took a breath to speak them, she knew that they would be of no use to him – and, beyond that, probably unwelcome.

So she swallowed the words and watched, mute, as Deidara gripped at the mattress in restrained powerlessness or aggravation or simply pain. Veins ridged the back of his hand; blue-green striations among the faded sky.

Again she felt the warmth of Deidara's sigh in her hair. Again his hand relaxed against the mattress.

"I can still work with my hands." He spoke with reticence; the words were not coming easy. "I can still make my explosives. I can still drive. I can still write, if I have to. But the – the finer control is all gone."

The finer control…Ino's gaze drifted to the canvases that were stacked six deep against the walls with their thick, frustrated lines of angry colour. Every canvas was beautiful in a powerful, abstract way: these controlled splashes of paint and these wide swathes of pigment, each so perfectly placed and so expressive and yet – and yet so raw.

Then she looked at Deidara's forearm – the swirling tattoos, the delicate lines of cloud and sky, the fine-spun details of wing and feather – and she understood.

She reached out with a forefinger and touched the fragile whorls of the cumulonimbus that curled towards his wrist. "You…you used to draw like this."

"Yeah."

"And now you can't."

He didn't answer her – and so confirmed her understanding. Her finger traveled the curling clouds, the slow meandering loops that formed these outlines that captured summer's end in a skyscape on his skin, these blues and pinks and mauves intermingled. She stopped where wrist met palm – where the peaceful sky disappeared and the war began, and her fearful fingers dared not touch.

And it was absurd, but Ino found herself blinking away tears.

"I must still be drunk," she whispered. "Why is this making me so sad?"

" _I_ must still be drunk," muttered Deidara into her hair. "Why am I talking to _you_ about this? I don't talk to _anyone_ about this…"

Ino wiped at the one or two tears that had managed to escape and sniffed, and told herself, yes, it was definitely the booze. That's what was making her weepy – that's what was making her sad. Because why the hell else would she care that some artist-thief-whatever had, in a moment of weakness or idiocy, decided to fuck around with his explosives while he was high and so ruined the hands that made his art possible, these whirling wings and these arcs of summer sky that would never be drawn again…Why the hell should she care that canvases of failure after failure accumulated against his walls while these memories of what he had lost forever were embedded in his skin? Why the hell should she care about any of these beautiful tragic things?

And obviously it was the booze that was making him voluble now, so that he had opened up on a subject that was so obviously so painful, with _her_ of all people (her, who he hated; her, who couldn't care less if she tried) and exposed this raw and aching part of himself to her, as if she wanted to know anything about it at all…

Yes, they were still drunk, drunk and having a Moment.

"I haven't even let anyone see that in years." Deidara pulled his arm away, close-fisted to hide his palm.

"It's not that bad," said Ino, more out of consideration for his pride than for the truth.

"Yeah. That's why you fucking _gasped_ when you saw."

Ino bit her lip; so he'd heard that, had he…?

"I just – hadn't expected it," said Ino.

"Right," said Deidara. "Whatever."

The Moment was over, dissipated as quickly as it had come. And so it should be, thought Ino – because such soft moments of caring and solicitude were the prerogative of friends or lovers, not erstwhile, unwilling allies using one another to fix up their respective affairs, with every intention of ditching each other forever afterwards.

Deidara pulled his arm out from under Ino's head, rolled over, and pretended to fall asleep again.

And Ino pretended too, until she fell asleep for real. 

VVV

   
   
   
   
  
(DeiIno aesthetics board by me -- see actuallydeglace@tumblr for more!)

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story continues. You can pry fake dates and bed-sharing from my cold dead hands.
> 
> Thank you Renaerys for the beta read! Any remaining oddities are mine.

 

It was high noon by the time Ino and Deidara returned to consciousness. Deidara got up and made more of his horrid soggy waffles, which Ino refused, and then he offered her an apple of dubious provenance, which she was too hungry to turn down.

Then Ino lay on the mattress, nursing a headache, and watched Deidara potter around with enough C-4 to decimate the whole building.

"Let's talk about last night," said Ino when her headache had subsided enough to make conversation bearable.

Deidara, in the process of adjusting a mechanical lens of some kind over his left eye, froze. "…What about last night?"

"The stuff Teruo said. The little prince thing."

"Oh," said Deidara, relaxing visibly and resuming his fiddling with the eyepiece. "Right. Yeah. Let's talk about that."

His blatant relief made Ino raise an eyebrow as she munched on her sketchy apple. What the hell did he think she'd wanted to talk about? The fact that he'd gotten excited about her in the elevator? The fact that he thought she was stupid hot? The fact that they'd cuddled like idiots all night long and neither of them had voiced any objections? And the way they'd ended their cozy night with a nice fluffy sharing-caring conversation about his hands?

Yeah, no, she wasn't touching any of those fantastically awkward subjects with a ten-foot pole.

"The little prince," said Deidara. "What kind of lame-ass name is that…?"

"It's a story about a little boy–"

"I know the story," interrupted Deidara. "That doesn't make it any less lame." He frowned as he twisted away at something with a screwdriver. "I've been thinking, though. There's something weird about this. This ten million."

"Weird how?"

"You saw Kakuzu yesterday."

"Yes," said Ino. "The most terrifying man I have ever met."

"Yeah. He's also the most money-hungry bastard around. But that much cash – it's spooking him. He didn't want to touch it. He thinks it's some kind of a sting."

"You think he's right?"

"No, I don't think it's a sting, 'cause Teruo doesn't, and he knows more than Kakuzu. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it's not the big leagues; maybe it's just someone rich who has no idea what they're doing, who wants your dad dead."

"Oh…?"

"I mean, think about it: a mob boss would know that the Kakuzus of the world get skittish with that kind of cash. They'd offer something less spectacular, something less noteworthy, and it'd get done anyway. There's mercs who'd kill their own mothers for 500 grand…"

Deidara put down the screwdriver and looked at Ino. "So here's a question. What dumb rich person would stand to benefit if your dad died? If Yamanaka Incorporated lost its leader and eventually went under?"

"Rival telecom companies, obviously," said Ino. "USNet, SkySat, and, of course, Telwave's the big one…"

Ino trailed off. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Deidara quirked an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"I have to go," said Ino, leaping to her feet. Her half-eaten apple rolled off the mattress, forgotten.

"Where?"

"Telwave. I think I know who did it."

"You do? How? Who's at Telwave?"

"Seigo Tadaaki," said Ino, darting around the apartment to collect her scattered work clothes. "The CEO. He's rich enough, definitely ambitious enough, and there might be an _additional_ motivating factor…"

"What does that mean?" asked Deidara as the whirlwind that was now Ino breezed by him. "What factor?"

"He happens to be an ex of mine."

Deidara gave Ino an open-mouthed stare. "…What? Your _ex_? You dated the CEO of a rival company?"

Ino disappeared into the bathroom to see if her underwear had dried overnight. "There was a…a time when we thought a merger might happen, actually," she called through the door as she pulled on cold, damp panties. "Between our two companies. But it turns out Seigo was a controlling jealous creep. Who also cheated on me."

"I see…"

"We didn't end on good terms," said Ino, hastening out of the bathroom and into the rest of her clothes.

"So, uh, what are you about to do?" asked Deidara, watching Ino wiggle into her pencil skirt while pretending not to be watching Ino wiggle into her pencil skirt. "Just barge in and ask him if he wants your dad dead?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "Yes. That is _exactly_ what I'm going to do because I have no intelligence whatsoever."

"Well you sure _look_ like you're about to stomp off without a plan…"

"Tss. I never stomp," said Ino. "I'm just going to drop by and say hi to Seigo, and see where the conversation goes from there."

Deidara did not look convinced that this was the best means of proceeding.

"What?" said Ino in the face of his skepticism. "It'll be fine. I'll know if he's lying to me. Seigo can't hide shit from me, like when he started _fucking his EA_ …"

Okay, so that last part had popped out a little more shrilly and bitterly than she had intended. Ino cleared her throat, buttoned up her suit jacket, and resumed her businesslike demeanor. "Ahem. Where did I put my shoes…?"

After some fussing Ino eventually found her shoes, found her purse, and made for the front door, only to find Deidara leaning against it with his arms crossed.

"Yes?" said Ino.

"What, you think you're leaving? Just like that?"

"Um, yes. I have a good idea as to who the rich dumb person is who might be out to kill my father out of professional and personal spite – it _would_ be just like him, the _asshole_ – and I'm going to intercept him—" Ino interrupted herself to tap at her lip, "—actually, maybe intercept isn't a strong enough word. I _might_ stab him in the throat with his fountain pen and say it was self-defense. I'm not sure yet. We'll see how I feel. Anyway, I'm leaving."

"I'm coming with you," said Deidara, shrugging on the beaten-up bomber jacket that had so offended Ino's sensibilities when she had first encountered it.

Her sensibilities remained offended. She looked him up and down – the brown jacket with its worn sheepskin lining, the scruffy jeans, the fraying corduroy gloves. "You? Are coming with me? To see Seigo?"

"Yeah."

"…No."

"Uh, yeah, I am. You think I'm letting you fuck off without me? When you're my one chance at not getting _killed_ next week?"

"I'm not fucking off," said Ino, reaching for the doorknob. "I'm just gathering some information, and then I'll be right back because I'll need you to–"

"No," said Deidara, wedging his hip between Ino's hand and the door.

"I signed your stupid contract! I _promised_ I wouldn't fuck off, and I _won't_."

"Great, so I'll just show that piece of paper to Kakuzu when he catches me next week and you've gone crying to daddy and the police and I still don't have the money. _Good idea._ It'll give him a laugh while he puts a bullet in my head."

This was kind of a joke, but also kind of not, realized Ino as she looked at Deidara. He was genuinely worried because he was genuinely in shit if she walked away.

But she had no intention of walking away. "You know, it really _offends_ me that you value my word – and my signature – so little—"

Deidara's shrug amply communicated quite how little he cared about offending her.

"And as if those things weren't enough," continued Ino, "I _owe_ you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know about this contract for my father's _life_. So believe me, I'm not just walking out of here and leaving you to die."

"But that's exactly what you're doing."

Ino stomped the ground with an impatient heel. "I told you, I'll be _right back_."

"No."

"You _can't_ come with me," said Ino. "Seigo will take one look at you and fly into a rage; he's stupidly jealous…"

There was a moment of silence as Ino stood there with her mouth half-open for a moment and processed a new possibility.

Because…because when Seigo flew into his rages, that was when he was more likely to speak the truth. That was when he lost the filter between his brain and his mouth. It was how she'd learned about the EA, actually; he'd spat it out during one of their fights. (And, later, it was how Ino had learned that Seigo saw her as nothing but a trophy wife, and a convenient means to get his hands on Yamanaka, Inc…)

Ino tapped her lip with a finger and looked Deidara up and down.

"What?" said Deidara.

"I just had another idea. I think – I think it could be a _better_ idea than just dropping by to say hi out of the blue, which might make Seigo suspicious if it's really him." Ino pressed her fingertips together and began to pace. "Okay, okay, so what if we play this differently? What if we're more strategic? What if we line this up more naturally than me just showing up at his office? If I just happen to be out and about with my new boyfriend—" here Ino interrupted herself and shook her head "—but? _This_ guy? Would it be even remotely believable? Could I pull this off?"

"…What's happening right now?" asked Deidara as Ino circled around him, mumbling incomplete sentences.

"The jacket, the hair," said Ino, "too scruffy. It wouldn't work. The gloves. The fleecy sack coat. Are those Timberlands? God help us. Seigo'd never believe it…He'd ask where I found the hobo and die laughing…but what if I…?"

Ino took a step back and bit her lip and studied Deidara from the front and muttered some more. "Maybe there's potential? Maybe? I could go to Pierre? Pierre can fix anything, right?"

"Who the hell is Pierre?"

Ino ignored Deidara's question, brushed his hair to one side, flipped the collar of his jacket up and flipped it back down, tugged up his jeans, poked at his abs, ran a hand down his arm and squeezed it. "I mean, the _base_ is decent…More than decent, even…"

"I'm feeling objectified," said Deidara.

Ino gave him one last look, grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him out the door.

"Wh–? What's happening?"

"I've decided you're coming with me," said Ino.

"…Who's Pierre?"

"You'll see. You think the elevator's fixed? We need to get downtown."

"Probably. Okay, we can take my car—"

"The Prius? Does it _have_ to be the Prius?"

"I can borrow Sasori's PT Cruiser…"

"His _PT Cruiser_?" repeated Ino with a bit of a shriek as they disappeared into the dark hallway.

"Hey, it's kinda cool, it has all these scorpion decals; he likes scorpions—"

"Jesus Christ. We're taking the Prius."

VVV

Moments later, and with exclamations of delight, Ino was reunited with her phone, which made the journey in the Prius far more bearable. Only two missed calls and a handful of unread texts: as far as the people in Ino's life were concerned, she was still MIA at her spa getaway until Tuesday morning.

This was convenient, given that she had recently taken to being Nancy Drew and traipsing around the city looking for murderers.

"I thought we were going to this Seigo guy," said Deidara as Ino's directions led them to the environs of Central Park. "Isn't Telwave's HQ down near Wall Street…?"

"We are going to see him," said Ino. "But first, I need to change."

"Change? Into what?"

"Something that's not a rumpled Yves Saint Laurent skirt suit that I slept in two nights ago," said Ino. "Which Seigo will notice immediately. Don't question me. Turn right."

"Right? Where?"

"The parking garage, right _there_ …"

"Parking…?" said Deidara, veering right. His eyes travelled up the glass tower looming above him. "Where are we going?"

"My place."

"You live _here_?"

"Yes," said Ino.

"Like, next to Central Park?"

" _Yes_."

"Wow…"

The parking attendant in his little booth peered with great suspicion at the approaching Prius. Then he peered with even greater suspicion at Deidara, and with reason, in Ino's opinion, because Deidara was looking particularly disreputable this morning with his dishevelled hair in a man-bun and his sketchy-ass car.

Then the parking attendant recognized Ino in the front seat and just looked confused.

Ino smiled at him brightly and waved and muttered through her teeth, "Keep driving, keep driving, I don't want to have to explain what the hell I'm doing in a car like _this_ with someone like _you_ …"

The attendant raised the gate and waved back, bemused.

"Visitor's parking is on the left," said Ino. "And for god's sake, don't ding anyone's doors; I promise you can't afford the repairs."

Deidara followed her instructions in silence. She saw him eyeing the other cars lined up in the pristine parking garage. The few Mercedes-Benz and BMWs scattered about looked downright modest compared to the Bugattis, Lambos, and Maseratis that glimmered in the garage's white light.

And the rusty taupe Prius, well, it just looked ashamed to exist when Deidara parked it between a stately Bentley and a Jaguar coupe in the visitor's parking.

He locked it out of habit and then laughed, but the laugh was almost pained. "Don't think anyone here is gonna steal that piece of shit…"

"You never know, someone might find it, um…" Ino paused as she tried to think of something nice to say about the beaten-up, pathetic thing, "quaint…?"

"Right…"

They made their way to the elevator, and Deidara remarked, as they waited for it, that he didn't see Ino fainting or puking, so where was her claustrophobia now, hm?

Ino said nothing in response. The elevator doors opened.

"Oh," said Deidara.

The elevator was a gorgeous feat of engineering: glass from floor to ceiling and offering, as it flew them up twenty-one stories so smoothly they couldn't feel the movement of it, a stupendous view of Central Park.

"It's hard to get claustrophobic in here," said Ino as she looked out. "Even for me. It's part of why I bought here…"

A pleasant man's voice announced that they had reached the twenty-first floor and, to Deidara's delight, bid them a good day as they stepped out of the elevator.

"You too, man, take it easy," said Deidara to the elevator, eliciting a laugh from Ino.

Her heels click-clacked along the white marble floor as they made their way down the bright hallway towards her unit. The corridor was lined with comfortable chairs and low tables offering the day's newspapers, bowls of fruit (Deidara swiped a banana), little jars of imported Belgian chocolates…

"Huh," said Deidara.

"What?" asked Ino.

"No bodies to step over," said Deidara. "This feels weird. And that smell…"

"What smell…?"

Deidara inhaled deeply. "Lack of piss."

"Shh, don't be vulgar," said Ino as they reached her door. "I have neighbours who would be upset at that kind of language…"

Deidara rolled his eyes, peeled the banana, and watched Ino press in her code. "Wow. You don't just have _keys_ like normal people?"

"No. Stop looking, creep."

"Too late," said Deidara as Ino pushed open the door. "Good number, though, 7700…"

"Why?"

"Detonation velocity of nitroglycerin."

Ino pushed open the door and sighed a happy sigh – she was home. So much had happened since she had last been here some seventy-two hours ago – so much to make her appreciate what she had. Look at this place. Look at these spotless white floors, these pale grey walls dotted with tasteful abstracts perfectly matching the decor, look at her cherished baby grand piano gracing the space with its sculptural elegance. And she had an actual _kitchen_ , and an actual _bedroom_ with an actual _bed_ , and everything was clean, and clutter-free, and there were no cats and no rats…

Deidara, as he wandered in behind her, looked dodgier than ever against the hypermodern minimalism of the place. Ino realized, as she watched him slouch around in his grunged-up, bohemian way, that three days ago she would've screamed if such a man had turned up in her condo. And she would've called the police. And she would've had whatever marble tiles he'd stepped on sanitized, or maybe even replaced.

Which was dumb, because she knew now that though he looked disreputable and grimy, he was actually quite clean, and kind of smelled nice, and didn't have communicable diseases as far as she could tell.

Anyway, three-days-ago-Ino was kind of a baby.

Ino's thoughts were interrupted by Deidara as he stuck his head into the kitchen: "Hey, are you _sure_ you live here?"

"Obviously," said Ino. "I mean, _no_. I broke in. This is someone else's place. You caught me."

"But where's all your _stuff_?" Deidara popped out of the kitchen and waved his hands at the sleek, mirror-clean surfaces around him – the spotless coffee table, the almost-bare shelves, the dining table adorned with a single white tulip in a vase.

"Put away where it belongs," said Ino. "Clutter is gross."

"You live in a magazine."

Ino sniffed. "I like it this way."

Deidara moseyed into the living room where he discovered the piano. "Huh. D'you play, or is this just another magazine prop?"

"I play."

Deidara examined the little bookcase next to the piano, upon which Ino's scores were arranged by composer – Liszt, Chopin, Schumann, Brahms, Godowsky – all with spines well-worn from use.

"Weird," said Deidara. "You didn't strike me as the type…"

"You really don't know anything about me," said Ino.

Deidara gave her a long look. "Yeah. I guess I don't."

The floor-to-ceiling windows at the other end of the living room caught his attention next. Ino thought she heard an intake of breath as he walked over to take in the view. She joined him where he stood and found him staring not at New York City's iconic skyline, but rather higher – at the skies above and the sun.

"You know, _most_ people look at Central Park from up here," said Ino after she had observed this peculiar behaviour for a moment. "Or, like, the Chrysler Building over there…or Rockefeller Centre, down there…"

"Is that right?" Deidara said, glancing to where she pointed with an indifferent sort of politeness before turning his face skywards again.

Ino breathed out a huff of annoyance; this dork was _so_ not appreciating the amazing, multi-million dollar view of NYC she was presenting him with and opting instead looking at the sky, which he could look at from anywhere, so what was the deal?

She looked up too, trying to understand the fascination. It was just a late-afternoon July sky. It was blue. The sun was bright, as the sun is wont to be on summer afternoons. Altogether unremarkable…

Ino blinked away the sun-spot in her eye and patted Deidara on the shoulder. "Okay, Icarus. I'm going to go shower off the dirt and the memories of poverty. Don't touch anything, don't break anything—"

"Thanks for the instructions." Deidara awoke from his reverie with snark. "Good thing you mentioned, 'cause I was going to take a dump on your piano and then maybe smash some vases or something…"

Knowing that it would rankle more than responding in kind, Ino ignored his sarcasm. "Good, I'm glad we cleared that up. There's food in the fridge, so help yourself to whatever. Kiyoko always leaves groceries after she's done for the week…"

"Who's Kiyoko?"

"My housekeeper," said Ino, tottering off to her bedroom.

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Your housekeeper. _Of course_."

"I work seventy-hour weeks," said Ino over her shoulder. "Do you think I want to waste my precious free hours scrubbing toilets and cleaning floors? _Don't_ give me that judgy look."

Deidara was still giving her the judgy look, so she shut the bedroom door in his face.

VVV

"Jesus Christ," said Deidara when Ino came out of the bedroom an hour later. "Are we going to the Oscars?"

"No," said Ino. "But we're going to see Seigo. I wanted to do myself up, to remind him of what he lost, you know…"

What Seigo had lost was this: this stunning woman rocking this little white dress (Valentino) and these peep-toe pumps (Miu Miu), her white-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder in a profusion of wavy curls, her eyes shining cold and blue as glacier-melt, and her heart glittering as she thought of Seigo, colder still.

Deidara stared at her and said, "I don't know this Seigo guy, but I can tell you he's a goddamn idiot."

Ino drifted towards Deidara in a cloud of beauty and delicious smells. "Isn't he, though?"

Then she touched Deidara's hair and tilted his face up to the light. "Hm. Your turn. Let's see what we get."

"My turn to what…?"

"Shower and get pretty."

"I'm _already_ pretty," said Deidara as Ino pulled him towards the bathroom.

"Prettier, then," said Ino, stripping off the bomber jacket.

" _Excuse_ me? What are you…? I can undress myself, thanks."

"Can you? That would be _great_. We have an appointment in an hour and I need you to look at least somewhat presentable…"

"An appointment? With Seigo?" asked Deidara as Ino pulled his shirt over his head.

"No," scoffed Ino. "Not with Seigo, not yet. With Pierre."

"Who's Pierre?"

"My father's tailor," said Ino, undoing Deidara's belt.

"I don't wanna go to your father's fancy-ass tailor," said Deidara, trying and failing to stop Ino's quick hands from whipping his belt out from around his hips.

"I really don't care what you want," said Ino, now working on tugging off Deidara's jeans.

Deidara fought to hold them up as he eyed the rain shower and its profusion of bottles with suspicion. "Hey – I can do this _myself_ – and why are there like a million bottles of shampoo?"

"Because we aren't savages who use two-in-one Clorox in our hair," said Ino.

She gave up on the jeans and reached to take off Deidara's gloves. He swatted her hands away. "Get out. I _think_ I can figure out the rest of this showering stuff by myself, like a big boy."

"Are you sure?"

" _Yes,_ " said Deidara.

He spun her around and the next thing she knew, Ino was being pushed firmly out of the bathroom by two gloved palms in the small of her back.

Deidara closed the door behind her with a snap.

Then, a moment later, his voice came through it: "Uh. How do you turn this thing on?"

Ino rolled her eyes and went back in.

VVV

Ino took advantage of Deidara's showering to have her first real meal in three days. Again she found herself freshly appreciative and grateful for the things she had: this new head of romaine, this organic lemon, the feta, the hummus, the raspberries. Not a mouldy burrito or mushy waffle in sight.

She had a Good Life, thought Ino as she ate her raspberries. A Very Good Life.

This swell of appreciation, combined with the joy of being home again, and the anticipation of putting this father-murdering mystery to rest tonight, put Ino in a fine mood – a mood so fine it verged on buoyant.

So, when Deidara came out of the bathroom looking for his shirt, he was immediately accosted by a bubbly Ino who wanted to do his hair.

"No," she said, slapping his hands away when he tried to finger-comb the wet strands. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Deidara's objections were ignored as Ino pulled him to her bed and sat him down on it. Then she clambered behind him armed with her hair-dryer and brushes and a dozen bottles of things that smelled nice, and combed and conditioned and sprayed to her heart's content.

"My scalp is bleeding," declared Deidara.

"Don't be a baby."

" _Ow._ "

Ino tutted. "You have _so many knots_ …"

"You're _making_ them."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ino. "Have you seen my hair? I know my way around hair. It's not my fault you decided to start developing dreadlocks on the way here."

"Why do I smell tea?"

Ino wrapped an arm around Deidara's neck to show him the bottle. "White tea serum by Bulgari. Isn't it delicious? And it's helping me with the rat's nests…" She paused as she untangled a particularly stubborn knot. "Actually, I'm surprised I haven't found a literal rat in here, given your living arrangements…"

"Funny," said Deidara.

" _I_ thought so."

In the mirror across from her bed, Ino could see Deidara looking around her bedroom: the large white bed they were seated on, the glittering chandelier that hung low over it, the grey shag rug on the floor, the darker grey side tables, the single white orchid on the dresser.

"So, given _your_ living arrangements," said Deidara, "are you actually colour blind?"

"Funny," said Ino.

" _I_ thought so."

"No, I'm not colour blind. I've always loved greys and whites…"

"Boring."

" _Beautiful_ ," said Ino. "When I was little, I wished my eyes were grey, instead of blue."

"Wow."

"Anyway, in a space like this, you can play with textures and light and reflections more when there isn't loud colour obscuring everything else…It's quieter. More serene. Modern. _Clean_."

"Cold," said Deidara.

Ino looked at him in the mirror and shrugged. "Then it suits me."

"It does," said Deidara. He studied himself in the mirror, sitting on the edge of her bed without his shirt on, his chest a riot of colour, his black gloves pressing into the white bed. "And I'm pretty fuckin' out of place."

"You really are," said Ino, looking down at his bare shoulders with their pastel mauves and sky blues. She passed a finger along a ray of sun that shone up from his shoulder blade and shook her head. "Tsk. I mean, look at this. This is just obnoxiously bright."

"Yeah, well—"

"It suits you perfectly."

Deidara stared at her in the mirror. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult."

"I'm gonna say insult. And if you insult me back, I _will_ pull your hair."

"You're _already_ pulling my hair…"

"I know, but _look_ ," said Ino, lifting Deidara's hair. She let it fall over his shoulder in silky strands. "Worth it, no?"

They watched the effect in the mirror. Ino's own hair, far longer than Deidara's, fell over both of their shoulders as she leaned into him from behind.

The contrast between his hair and hers struck Ino as quite lovely: his raw honey versus her expensive platinum. She amused herself by reaching over and twining thick strands of their hair together in a loose braid.

"I like it," she said, tilting her head and running her fingers down the blond-white plait (sunlight and moonlight, or summer and winter, or butterscotch and vanilla, or any number of other such pretty contradictory things…).

Deidara said nothing but his eyes lingered long on the braid, as though it carried some significance beyond entertainment for Ino's idle fingers.

Ino undid the braid with care: "Don't want to ruin my curls."

"We're done?" asked Deidara as Ino sat up and began to gather her bottles together.

"Yep."

"Already?"

"Yes…?"

"Oh," said Deidara, and something in that single syllable told Ino that he'd actually been kind of enjoying himself, though he'd never admit it, and that he would've liked this impromptu hair-playing session to have gone on for a while longer.

Ino hefted her first load of products back to their respective drawers in the bathroom and was amused to find that Deidara hadn't moved from his position on her bed when she returned.

"Careful," said Ino as she leaned onto the bed beside him to collect her brushes. "If you keep sitting here I'm going to take it as an invitation to start experimenting with hairstyles on you, and you really don't want that…"

She reached with her free hand and twirled a strand of Deidara's hair between her fingertips. They looked at each other. In his eyes was a subdued struggle between pride and something softer, some innocent, comfort-seeking thing…

He caught her by the wrist before she could walk away. "Maybe I do want that."

Ino's gaze flicked down to where his glove encircled her wrist. He let go immediately.

"I thought your scalp was bleeding," said Ino.

"I'm a masochist," said Deidara.

Ino dropped the brushes back onto the bed, hitched up her dress, and resumed her position behind him with a grin.

When he managed to wrench his eyes from the flash of her legs in their tights, Deidara noticed Ino's grin in the mirror. "What're you smiling about?"

"I'm going to make you, like, the biggest beehive…"

"Oh," said Deidara, leaning back onto his hands. "Go nuts."

"Wh—? You were supposed to object to that, and then I was going to suggest a Mohican…"

Deidara closed his eyes as Ino wove her fingers into his hair. "Shh."

"Did you just shush me? _Excuse_ me…?"

Deidara ignored her and kept his eyes closed.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting your nap?" asked Ino.

"Yeah, you are."

"Aww. Sleep tight, you poor, tired thing," whispered Ino into Deidara's ear while stroking his hair with exaggerated solicitude. Then, in an even quieter whisper, she added: "You're going to wake up with a mullet."

Deidara cracked open an eye and said, "I would actually kill you."

Ino laughed and proceeded to play with his hair, "But just for five minutes, okay, we have to go." First she made him a poofy high ponytail that totally brought out his cheekbones, then she made an intricate fishtail braid to show off, and then she made a loose chignon which, as she informed him, really made him look like a hot girl from behind.

Ino put on a good show of being amused and entertained, but as her fingers worked, she began to wonder what the hell she was doing here, exactly? And what the hell _he_ was doing, also? Because everything they had done together until now was for their respective benefits: for Ino to keep her father alive, and for Deidara to keep himself alive. Dressing up like a prostitute to gather intelligence on who put out the hit on her father? Fine. Tidying up Deidara to make sure he looked like a plausible boyfriend for her nefarious designs against Seigo? Fine.

But sitting here, playing with Deidara's perfectly fine hair just for shits and giggles? That kind of crossed a line. Ino didn't do things for shits and giggles. And yet, here she was…

No, really – what the hell was she doing?

Ino pulled Deidara's new chignon apart with a frown. "Okay, that's enough messing around. We need to leave."

"Mm?" said Deidara, blinking around and looking dazed, like he really had just woken up from a nap.

"Do that half-ponytail topknot thing you do," said Ino, gathering her collection of combs and brushes into her arms. "And we can go."

"That? That's good enough for you?"

" _Yes_ , it's good enough. Now get a shirt on and let's head out."

She left Deidara sitting bemused on the bed, probably wondering what had caused such an abrupt end to such a peaceful moment.

And Ino…Ino wasn't in the mood to explain something she didn't quite understand herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Pierre's shop was just about walking distance from Ino's apartment – at least, close enough that driving there would take twice the time in New York traffic and parking would be a hassle.

As Deidara and Ino made their way towards Fifth Avenue, a wolf-whistle pierced the air. Ino ignored it, just as she ignored the many wolf-whistles and catcalls that accompanied her steps through the city every day.

Deidara did not have the same habit: he turned, irritated, to glare at the homeless man who had whistled.

"Don't pay attention," said Ino, gripping Deidara's sleeve and pulling him forwards. "It's what he wants…"

The homeless guy called to Deidara as he was being dragged away. "My man…"

"What?" said Deidara.

"If she ain't your sister," wheezed the homeless guy, "you doin' _alright_ …"

Ino felt the tension disappear from Deidara's arm as his irritation turned amusement. He winked at the guy and said, "Not my sister."

The hobo gave Deidara a gap-toothed smile. Deidara gave him a double thumbs-up.

As for Ino, she sped up her pace and pretended that neither of them existed.

Deidara caught up to her in a couple of steps. "Hey. Did you hear? I'm doing _alright_."

"Ew," said Ino. "Maybe in your wildest dreams."

"In _my_ wildest dreams?" repeated Deidara with vexation. "Yeah, no. In _your_ wildest dreams, maybe."

"I don't even know what I'd have to be hopped up on to have _that_ kind of dream about you." Ino hooked her arm into Deidara's and speed-walked along. "Speaking of hopped up, if you'd stop getting side-tracked by hobos on LSD, we'd be there by now…"

Deidara shot a doubtful glance over his shoulder towards his hobo-friend. "LSD? You think? I didn't get that vibe…"

"He was _obviously_ on some kind of hallucinogen to think we could ever be related."

"Real funny. But you're right. I'm _way_ too pretty to be related to you."

"…I think you have that backwards," said Ino.

"I think I don't."

Ino's hand in the crook of Deidara's elbow tightened into a pinch.

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry, I stumbled," said Ino, making a show of regaining her footing. "Thank goodness for your strong manly arm keeping me upright."

"You little—"

"Look, we're here," interrupted Ino, pulling Deidara to a halt beside her. "We're a few minutes late but Pierre will forgive me…"

Deidara rubbed at his arm as he studied the storefront and its gold-on-black sign: _Pierre Leblanc. Tailleur-Couturier. Textiles de France._

"I'm not going in this snotty-ass place," he said as he eyed the tuxedoed-up mannequins in the window.

"Why?"

"It's too fancy."

"So what if it's fancy?"

Deidara stared at the four- and five-digit prices listed beside the mannequins. "…I can't pay for this shit."

" _I'm_ paying for this shit," said Ino.

"I don't want you to pay for my shit."

"We'll take it out of the ten million, then," said Ino. "Come on, we don't have much time…"

"No," said Deidara.

"Let's _go_ ," said Ino, snatching his arm.

Deidara pulled it out of her grasp. "I don't want to go in there."

"I need you to look _respectable_." Ino reached for his arm again. "Come."

Deidara kept his arm well out of her reach. "Can't we just go to, like, Century 21?"

"Century 21? That's, like, one step away from a consignment shop, isn't it?"

"No it's not, you snooty little brat, it's where _normal_ people go—"

"I don't have _time_ for this. I'm on a _schedule_." Ino gripped Deidara's belt buckle and started to drag him. "We're going _here_."

Deidara dug in his heels and tried to pry her hand from the front of his pants. "We _aren't_."

"Excuse me, ma'am," came the voice of a policeman who had materialized out of nowhere. "Is this man bothering you?"

Ino looked carefully at the officer to make sure it wasn't Sasori again before releasing her hold on Deidara. "No – no, we're fine, thank you."

"Are you sure?" asked the officer, who was now staring Deidara down.

"Yes, quite sure, thank you…"

"Alright," said the officer, still watching Deidara like he was about to commit some crime right there where he stood. "You just let me know if there's anything. I'll be over here…"

It took a few more gracious smiles and thank-yous on the part of Ino to convince the policeman to walk away. He did eventually, with many suspicious looks over his shoulder at Deidara, who just stared at him with his mouth half-open.

As soon as the officer was out of hearing range, Deidara spat out his bottled-up incredulity. "What the hell? _I_ was the one being pulled along by the front of my pants? And he asks if _you_ need help?"

"I make a prettier damsel in distress," said Ino.

"Seriously, though? I mean, for all he knew you were dragging me into an alley to have your way with me—"

This suggestion was interrupted by Ino's magnificent scoff.

Deidara readjusted his pants with a black look. "Jeez. You're the one pulling _me_ where I didn't want to go, and _I'm_ the bad guy…"

"You _are_ the bad guy. You _abducted_ me." Ino considered the policeman's distant figure among the crowds on the sidewalk. "He's got better instincts than he knows, that officer…"

"Not so loud, goddamn," said Deidara, making hushing motions with his hands. "Anyone could hear…"

"Then come," said Ino, pulling open the door to Pierre's shop, "or I'll tell him you kidnapped me."

"Okay, _okay_ …"

VVV

"Just think of it as a challenge," said Ino in her most cajoling tones as Pierre looked down his nose at Deidara and confirmed all of the latter's suspicions about the snotty-assedness of the place.

"Mademoiselle is not giving me much time _or_ substance to work with," said Pierre, surveying the grungy fashion disaster before him.

"Yes, because Mademoiselle is in a bit of a hurry," said Ino. "Come on, Pierre. You've never failed me before…"

"Very well," said Pierre, still looking down his nose at Deidara. "Given Mademoiselle's timeline, it will have to be something from our ready to wear selection. My preference would have been bespoke, of course…"

"Of course," said Ino. "But we need something for _tonight_ …You can take the measurements for a bespoke piece for later, yes?"

Pierre raised one of his eyebrows at her – and with reason, because what the hell was Monsieur Yamanaka's stunning daughter doing dragging a tramp into his store and wanting to dress him up so urgently?

Ino was grateful that Pierre was too discreet to ask such questions out loud.

Pierre sniffed and gestured to Deidara. "Very well. If Monsieur would care to follow me and remove these…' _clothes'_ …"

Deidara gave Ino a dark look before he was shuffled into a back room to be measured and suited up.

"I want black," called Ino. "Double-breasted. You carry shoes, right, Pierre? Can we do black leather oxfords? Let's civilize him a bit. And cufflinks, please…!"

"Oui, Mademoiselle," came Pierre's voice.

A few minutes later, Pierre's assistant, Claude, returned to the storefront holding up a bag. "I 'ave the gentleman's clothes here. Pierre has asked if you would like them to be burnt?"

Ino laughed and was tempted to say yes, but saner thoughts prevailed. "Leave them with me. I think he'd kill me…"

She heard some raised voices in the back of the store, and then there was silence broken only by orders barked out in French and Claude popping in and out of the storefront looking increasingly harried.

Ino wandered about, bored, for almost an hour, until a stupendously good-looking man made an appearance a few aisles down from her: sharply dressed in black, great body, rocking long blond hair…

…Oh holy shit, it was Deidara.

Ino choked out something inarticulate ("Gurk") but was able to assume an appropriately neutral expression by the time he reached her side.

"All done?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Deidara, though there was something mutinous in the word.

"Why're you so grouchy? Did you _see_ yourself?" Ino tugged him towards a floor-to-ceiling mirror. "This is a _definite_ improvement. You're, like, Cinderella'd up…"

Deidara examined himself in the mirror with a sulk.

Ino sidled up to him. "Stop pouting. _Look_ at you. The fit is just beautiful. Oh my god, look at your shoulders. And look at your thighs through these pants, I want to bite them. _Soo_ much better than those baggy things you wear. No tie? That's fine, keep the top button undone, like this. There. Classy, but less formal. _I_ would've gone with silver for the cufflinks, but gold – gold probably suits you more…"

Ino's show of enthusiasm seemed to alleviate most of Deidara's sulk, though he did his best to appear grumpy when he said, "Don't bite my thighs."

"This is _perfect_ for tonight," said Ino, pulling herself against Deidara and studying their reflection in the mirror. " _Look_ at us."

It was no wonder, really, that the homeless guy had thought that they might've been related, these two pretty things with their blond hair and their eyes of variable blue and the bloom of youth on their cheeks.

But, as she observed herself and Deidara in the mirror, Ino realized that they were alike, and yet not. Where she was pale, Deidara was tanned – and inked up everywhere else. Where his hair caught the light in sun-worshipping honey, hers was a moon-kissed blonde so light it approached white. Even their bangs fell on opposite sides – his parted to the right, and hers, the left – so that each saw the world with a different eye. An eye that was, in Ino's case, a shade of frost so pale it almost wasn't a colour, and in Deidara's case, the relentless blue of the sky at the height of summer…

Ino hadn't realized she'd sunk into a daydream until Pierre's arrival jolted her out of it. He popped up over Deidara's shoulder looking unhappy, like he was offering an inferior product despite his best efforts.

" _Désolé_ , Mademoiselle – this is the best we could do," he said, flicking something invisible off of Deidara's arm. "I decided on the Burberry, you see. I thought, first, the 'Ugo Boss, or the Brioni – but this slim fit was, I thought, more appropriate for Monsieur's figure…with these trousers tapered like this, you see here…"

"He's perfect, Pierre."

"But, Mademoiselle – perhaps you could intervene – the gloves, Monsieur refuses to remove them. But with this ensemble… _c'est_ _ridicule_ …"

Deidara now had his gloved hands shoved in his pocket (very much ruining the lines of the suit), and, judging by the tightness of his jaw, he was ready to blow a fuse if pressed on the issue.

Ino put a hand on his arm and turned to Pierre. "He has to wear them," she said with a shake of her head. "Eczema, you know…"

She saw Deidara's jaw clench further and squeezed his arm harder; if she had to pose as a prostitute for a night, he could _definitely_ handle sudden-onset eczema.

"Ah," said Pierre with a sad nod – not like the eczema was sad, but rather, it was sad that the outfit would not be perfect. "May I propose some alternatives, then…?"

Deidara shook his head no, but Ino said yes. Pierre gestured to Claude, who disappeared and reappeared with a flat box containing, nestled among white tissue paper, gloves of the softest black leather.

"Italian, of course," said Pierre. He peeled away the tissue paper and proffered the gloves to Ino. "They do not do many things better than the French, but leather…Leather is another thing, you know. These are from my supplier in Florence."

"Gorgeous," said Ino, running her fingers along the leather and admiring the craftsmanship of the stitching.

"Is the gentleman interested?" asked Pierre.

"No," said Deidara.

"We'll take them," said Ino.

Ino handled the bill and didn't let Deidara see it because she didn't want him to faint. Then, thanking Pierre effusively for his miracle, she pulled Deidara out of the store.

"Worst experience of my life," said Deidara.

"Maybe," said Ino, "but you sure clean up pretty…"

"Shut up."

"It suits you …"

Deidara stalked along beside her with his hands shoved into his pockets. "I'm sorry, was that a _pun_? It was terrible. Don't talk to me. I'm dressed like a _nerd._ "

"You're dressed like a rich, successful little bastard," said Ino. "Which is perfect, because I'm about to pit you against another rich, successful little bastard, to find out if he's being extra bastardly and plotting to kill my father."

"Great. I'll make sure I talk to him about jetted pockets and half-break trousers…and maybe we can _duel_ with our _pocket squares_ …"

Ino took his arm. "Ooh, you know the lingo now. I _must_ congratulate Pierre, he civilized you in, like, an hour…"

Deidara looked down at her with a fresh degree of irritation. "That guy. Almost got into a fight with him."

"With Pierre? Why?"

"He asked me, _how do you dress, sir_ …"

"And…?"

Deidara looked at Ino askance. "Do _you_ know what that means?"

"Yes, it's which side your – um – your junk hangs…"

" _How_ did you know that?"

"I don't know, it's just common knowledge…"

"Well _I_ didn't know what it meant, so it can't be _that_ common. So I said, how do I dress? I use my hands, yeah? And Frenchie back there sniffed like that was, like, a funny failed joke, or whatever. And he asked, _which side, sir_. And I'm left-handed? So I said, left?"

Ino raised a hand to her mouth. "Oh…"

"And he's like, coming at my crotch with this measuring tape, to measure the – the inseam, or whatever. And he's like, _are you certain, sir_?"

Ino bit her lip. "Oh my…"

"And I was like, yeah? And he's like, _no, I believe Monsieur is mistaken_ , and I'm like, _I think I'd know more than you, buddy_ , and he's like, _zen what is zis_ …"

Ino pressed her fingers to her mouth.

"And he took his measuring tape," said Deidara, "and he _poked my dick._ "

And Ino dissolved into shrieks of laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

Deidara held Ino up in a side-hug as she collapsed into a helpless laughing fit.

"Wow," said Deidara.

Ino shrieked-laughed and poked one finger with another finger, replicating the incident for Deidara's benefit (he did not find it amusing) and disintegrated into more laughter.

"I'm – crying," sniffed Ino.

"It wasn't funny, it was an _outrage_ ," said Deidara.

"My face, I can't feel my cheeks. I need a tissue…"

"How about you try standing up first," said Deidara, hefting her back onto her feet.

"I'm – I can't – no, just…you being so certain you're right, and Pierre knowing you're not, and you insisting that you are, and he can see, he _knows_ , it's right there, your dick, he knows you're wrong…And you tell him off, all smarmy, like you always are, ' _buddy,'_ like he doesn't know his own job, like he can't recognize a bulge when he sees one…and he…he _pokes_ …your…"

Ino's hands gripped weakly at Deidara's shoulders and she fell into him with more breathless giggles. "He – poked – it – _with the measuring tape_ …"

"I know," said Deidara in a flat voice. "I was there."

Ino took a breath to steel herself and wiped her eyes. "Oh my god. Why is this so funny…?"

"It's not," said Deidara, though, as he watched Ino's fresh paroxysm of giggles, there glimmered just the tiniest hint of amusement behind his annoyed façade.

"Okay," said Ino, fanning her face with her hands. "Breathing. Need to get a grip."

"Seriously. You're embarrassing me."

Ino looked at the tourists and passersby that were streaming on either side of them on the busy sidewalk. She found a tissue in her purse and dabbed at her eyes. "Pff, like I care what any of these randos think about me…"

"They're going to think _I_ made you cry."

"You did," said Ino. "And anyway, who cares what they think. Look at them – masses of them, clogging up my favourite LV and Tiffany's and Chanel stores when they can't even afford to shop there – ugh…I _hate_ them…"

Deidara, who still had an arm around Ino's waist, ostensibly to keep supporting her, pulled away. "Man…every time I think you might be likeable in some tiny way, you remind me of what a little snot you are."

Ino straightened up and took a step away herself. "Well, every time I think _you_ might be likeable in some tiny way—"

"What tiny way?"

"Like, easy on the eyes, in that suit – you remind me of what an uncultured _rustic_ you are. But hey, at least now you know which way you dress, right?" Ino's eyes flicked down to Deidara's crotch. "On the right. That's…unusual."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

Deidara slid a hand in front of his crotch. "Stop eyeing me like you wanna feel me up."

"I'm _intrigued_ ," said Ino. "And it looks like it's making you _uncomfortable_ , so, bonus…"

Deidara narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I owe you several uncomfortable moments," said Ino.

"What – you're keeping track?"

"Oh yes," said Ino with a little smile over her shoulder. "Come, I need to find somewhere quiet to make a call."

They made their way off Fifth with its unwashed hordes and found a more-or-less quiet coffee bar. Ino ordered something frothy and sugary, so, of course, Deidara got something black and strong.

Then Ino walked to the window and made her phone call, and paced to and fro, and looked pretty for the people passing the window as well as for Deidara.

"So who was that?" asked Deidara when Ino returned to their table.

"Carbone," said Ino.

" _You_ know Carbone?" asked Deidara, looking oddly impressed.

Ino raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes…Do _you_ know Carbone?"

"The mafia guy?" said Deidara at the same time as Ino said, "The restaurant?"

"Oh," they said together. And they looked at each other and were reminded of the immensity of the gulf that separated their lives.

"Anyway," said Ino with a little shake of her head, " _my_ Carbone is an Italian place. Only one Michelin star, you know. Seigo never did have any taste. We're going to be there tonight."

"…Why?"

"Because it's Sunday," said Ino, as though that explained matters.

"I _know_ it's Sunday," said Deidara. "Do you think I don't know what day it is? I'm counting down the last hours of my life until goddamn Friday. What's the connection with your boyfriend?"

" _Ex_. On Sundays, Seigo and his mother have dinner at Carbone. Tonight, we're going to happen to be there, too."

"Sounds like an annoying fancy place full of annoying fancy people."

Ino sipped at her vanilla crème. "It is. But I'm paying; you're just there to look pretty. And help me antagonize Seigo into saying something stupid."

"What? _That's_ your plan? That's why I'm all dolled up?"

"Yes. What did you think you were getting dolled up for?"

"I dunno, infiltration? Spying? Something _cool_ _?_ "

"No," scoffed Ino. "We aren't trying to infiltrate Telwave. Neither of us has the abilities, equipment, _or_ expertise required to infiltrate a tech company. And not only would we fail miserably, but also, it's _illegal_."

"So's putting a price on a man's head, but that didn't stop your boyfriend."

" _Ex_. And _I_ don't do illegal things. My entire career is predicated on upholding the law, not breaking it."

Deidara looked at the ceiling with an expression of pained boredom. "Okay. Whatever. So explain this quote-unquote plan to me, 'cause it's obviously not what _I_ had in mind…"

"Seigo is a jealous, possessive asshole of a man. Just seeing you there with me tonight is going to set him off."

"Why? I thought you broke up."

"We did." Ino stirred her drink so that the whipped cream dissolved into sugary froth. "I ended it. For many good reasons. And he remains a jealous asshole: he can't stand someone else having what he thinks should be his. You'll see tonight. Anyway, when he gets pissed, he runs his mouth. If we play our cards right, he and I will get into a fight in the middle of the restaurant, and I'm going to bring up certain, ah, _elements_ of our relationship, and then we'll see if he doesn't drop a hint as to whether or not he's idiotically put out a hit on my father."

"Well, if you want my opinion—"

Ino sucked the last of the whipped cream off of her stirring stick and pressed it to Deidara's mouth. "I don't."

VVV

"Your plan sucks," said Deidara when the waiter had taken their order. "They aren't even here…"

"Not _yet_ ," said Ino. "I grabbed an earlier reservation because I wanted to position myself more strategically…"

"What's strategic about this?" asked Deidara, gesturing at their position in the middle of the restaurant. "High viz, windows right there, far from the exits, and the _crossfire_? This is the worst position possible…"

"This isn't a shootout," tutted Ino. "It's a different kind of fight. I want him to be able to see me no matter where he sits."

"Oh."

Ino ran a hand through her hair. Deidara watched her arrange the long white-gold waves so that they fell to her waist just so.

"And then," Ino whispered, leaning towards him, " _then_ , when I know he's watching, I'm going to sit here all gorgeous like this and laugh at all your jokes, and play footsie with you under the table, and hold your hand, and stare into your eyes, like you own my soul in a way that he never did."

Ino placed her chin on her hand and parted her lips and demonstrated the soul-stare. And Deidara – Deidara wasn't prepared for it and so lost himself in it, in those opaline eyes and that skin of cool porcelain, and those lips, pale pink as a December sunrise…

And so he sat there, spellbound, until Ino tilted her head back and laughed to put him back at ease – like this had been a good joke and not a terrifying demonstration of her power.

"He's going to _freak,_ " said Ino.

Deidara blinked like one coming out of a trance. "Shit. You're… _evil_."

"Hell hath no fury," said Ino, bringing her glass of Chardonnay to her lips.

"I don't know if I'm looking forward to seeing this," Deidara said as he downed his drink, "or scared."

Ino watched him glug it down. "Hey. Easy on the liquor. I need you to be sober."

"What _was_ that?" said Deidara, looking at his glass. "I thought I ordered a whiskey…"

"Whatever the finest whiskey is," said Ino with a shrug. "They don't serve that nasty gasoline shit you're used to in this kind of place."

"Damn." Deidara waved to the waiter for another. "That went down _smooth_."

Ino glanced around. It was almost eight o'clock; Seigo would be arriving any minute now. She ran her nails along the base of her wineglass in tight circles, finding herself a little anxious now that his arrival was imminent.

"So, what about you?" she asked Deidara in an attempt to keep herself distracted. "Any crazy exes?"

Deidara, who was discreetly licking the last drop of whiskey from the rim of the glass, seemed nonplussed by the question. "Uh…not really. You saw my record. Spent most of my teenage years in juvie and a good chunk of my twenties in prison. So my relationships have mostly been… _casual_."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Oh," said Ino. Before Deidara could open his mouth to echo her question, she tssked. "It's rude to ask a lady her age."

Deidara pointed to himself. "Uncultured rustic, remember?"

"…Touché."

"So how old?"

"Guess."

"Nope," said Deidara, shaking his head. "Nope nope nope. That's a dangerous-ass game. You'll think I'm lying if I go too young and you'll get all pissy if I guess too old."

"True." Ino took a sip of wine and tilted her glass in his direction. "Guess anyway."

"No. Just tell me."

"No."

"Forty," said Deidara.

"Funny."

"Forty-five," said Deidara. "You know, you look _great_ for your age. You have an ass like a—"

" _Deidara_ ," cut in Ino with a glance at the nearby wait staff, "don't be vulgar."

"I'm gonna get _really_ vulgar if you don't tell me."

"Don't. They know me here. I have an image to maintain and I don't date _boors_."

"So tell me."

Ino sighed into her wine. "…Twenty-six."

Deidara sat back with a look of smug gratification.

"What?" asked Ino. "What was your real guess?"

"Twenty-six," said Deidara.

"Pff. I don't believe you for a second."

"It's true," said Deidara, looking so self-satisfied that Ino suspected he might not actually be lying.

A waiter interrupted them with a platter of thyme-dusted bread and olive oil.

Ino waved the bread off towards Deidara because carbs. "Anyway, I got side-tracked from my initial line of questioning. Which – congrats – doesn't happen often. So, you're trying to tell me you've never had an actual girlfriend?"

"Nope," said Deidara.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah…?" said Deidara around a mouthful of focaccia. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

Ino had her reasons, reasons that she didn't want to share because they'd be too flattering for him ("you're too pretty to have been perpetually single") and embarrassing for her ("like, I mean, you're really doing it for me all cleaned up in this suit and if this wasn't a pretend date and you weren't a convicted arsonist I'd be thinking bad things").

She subdued these thoughts with ferocity. "I don't know. It's just weird."

"I don't do the girlfriend thing. Girls are a pain in the ass. Clingy. Moody. Whiny—"

"Excuse me?"

"—Never wanna do anything fun. Always lecturing about something. Always think they're right…"

" _Excuse_ me?" repeated Ino.

"Case in point." Deidara gestured towards Ino in a grandiose fashion, like she was the living proof of this theory of his. "Literally everything I just said."

Ino straightened up in her chair. "I'm not _clingy_."

Deidara ran his fingers along one of his shoulders. "Really? 'Cause I have all these teeny _bruises_ from you hanging off me at the club last night, and even more from the elevator. You know, when you wanted to use my _corpse_ to cushion your _fall_ , 'cause you're _caring_ like that…"

"…I'm not clingy in the _figurative_ sense," said Ino after a momentary hesitation because goddamn, he had her there; had she really left bruises? "And anyway, you can't use me as your case in point. You'd never be in a position to do _the girlfriend thing_ with me in the first place."

Deidara opened his mouth to reply but a waiter approached to refill their drinks and forced him to bite back whatever retort he might've had lined up.

Ino didn't allow him the opportunity to revisit the topic of her clinginess. "So," she said as soon as the waiter had retreated, "if you don't do the girlfriend thing and you don't do the hooker thing…what do you do?"

"I told you, I keep things casual," said Deidara. He looked her up and down. "Why're you _inquiring_ into my history?"

Ino lifted a shoulder into a refined little shrug. "Curious."

"But why do you even care—"

"He's here," interrupted Ino.

And so he was. Seigo stood at the entrance a small distance away helping his mother take off her shawl.

Ino picked up the wine list to hide her face from Seigo's immediate line of sight. "Don't look up."

"Great," said Deidara, staring at the table. "What am I supposed to look at now?"

"I don't know," said Ino. Then, seeing Deidara stiffly staring at his butter knife, she nudged him under the table. "Act _natural_ …"

"Acting natural _is_ looking around…"

"Not yet. I want him to get settled in without noticing us. Stare at my cleavage, if you must. I know you've been fighting to avoid doing _that_ for the last half hour…"

"Not true," said Deidara.

"Tch. Liar."

"Fine, okay, it's hard not to when you keep leaning forward to talk to me…"

So Deidara stared at Ino's cleavage and Ino held up the wine list and covertly watched Seigo and his mother being ushered to a table about thirty feet away.

Seigo hadn't changed since she'd last seen him six months ago; since that last, final, furious blowout between them. He was looking as handsome as always – tall, dark, immaculately dressed. He pulled the chair out for his mother like the well-mannered man he was and smiled and made pleasant small talk with the waiter, and gestured at something on the menu with his beautiful hands…

It still hurt Ino to look at him, this man who had been her fiancé, this man who had been so close to becoming her husband.

This man who she'd actually loved.

"Are you…okay?" asked Deidara.

"Yes," said Ino, lowering the wine list now that Seigo was getting settled. "I'm fine."

Deidara studied her and, to her annoyance, Ino felt him detecting the fissures in her composure: the lovely lines of her jaw that were now clenched, the glitter of something sharp and angry in her eyes.

"You don't _look_ fine," said Deidara. "You look pissed."

"I'm _fine_."

"…This was a bad idea."

" _You're_ the one who suggested checking out rival companies," hissed Ino. "I have now brought us into the immediate proximity of Telwave's CEO. I don't see you doing _better._ "

"Yeah," whispered Deidara, "checking them out, like investigating at a safe distance – not eyeballing the CEO like you're about to break your wineglass and go stab him with the pieces…"

Ino looked at the delicate glass of Chardonnay whose stem quivered between her fingers. "That is _such_ a good idea…"

"No." Deidara pressed her wrist down so that the glass rested on the table. "What the hell? Why are you shaking like this? I thought he was just your ex…"

"He _is_ just an ex. He's _nothing_ to me," said Ino, trying to convince herself of this even as, under Deidara's hand, she trembled with a rush of unexpected anger.

"So why are you fixing to _murder him_ in the next five minutes?"

"I'm not," lied Ino.

She loosened her grip on her glass and tucked her hands into her lap so that Deidara could no longer see her angry trembling.

Deidara was staring at her in disbelief. "Hey. You said you were going to pretend to be having the time of your life with some other guy to piss him off. But now we're here and you're failing at looking like you're having the time of your life, and _he's_ pissing you off just by being here. He doesn't even know you're here yet…"

"It's fine."

"Your plan is fucked if you don't keep it together." Deidara's gaze ran up and down Ino's svelte frame – her tense shoulders, her hidden, shaking hands, the shallow breathing that made her chest rise and fall. "He isn't just your ex, is he? He was more than some boyfriend…"

Ino looked down and didn't have the strength to lie about it.

"You said there'd been talks of a merger. Yamanaka, Inc. and Telwave." Deidara leaned forward and searched Ino's eyes. With a degree of perception that irritated her, he asked, "It wasn't just a business merger, was it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Ino in a clipped voice, turning away.

"There was going to be a wedding."

"Stop talking," said Ino.

"So I'm right."

"Fuck off."

Deidara sat back and crossed his arms. "Damn. And here I had you pegged as a heartless rich bitch. But he _hurt_ you…Look at you…"

"Drop it."

"You _do_ have a heart. Shit. I was wrong."

"Shut _up._ "

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing them their orders and topping off their drinks. It was a beneficial interruption: first, it made Deidara shut up and thus avoid getting impaled by Ino's stiletto under the table, and second, it forced Ino to smile and be gracious to the waiter and the sommelier and so dulled the edge of her anger.

They ate. Ino's stabby urges were fulfilled in dealing with her chicken scarpariello and she felt much better afterwards.

Deidara poked something with his fork and held it up. "Wow. Look at this. Ghost broccoli."

Ino looked at the thing, looked at Deidara and his fascinated expression, and surprised both Deidara and herself by bursting into a laugh. "That's…cauliflower."

"Oh."

"Idiot."

"Whatever," said Deidara, chewing on the cauliflower. "At least I don't think a palette knife is a shiv."

Ino, who had forgotten that particular display of naiveté on her part, conceded with a graceful nod. "Point taken."

Their meal was interrupted here and there by Deidara's exclamations as he found something new and exciting on his plate, like chives ("grass, legitimately grass") and aioli ("yeah, right, it's the chef's _special sauce_ and I'm not eating it").

Ino was relieved to find that the sharpness of her unanticipated rage faded with these little conversations about stupid things, these dumb arguments about blue cheese gnocchi versus frozen waffles, and what are capers, and where does aioli really come from and is it actually jizz?

It dawned on Ino after a handful of these exchanges that Deidara might be doing it on purpose. Which was a kind thing to do as well as a clever one, to talk her down from her tower of rage by teasing and acting like a moron, and so distract her from the wrath that might have jeopardized her whole plan…

Yes, decided Ino as Deidara questioned the very existence of celeriac, he was doing it on purpose.

"Thanks," said Ino.

"For what?"

"You know what."

"No idea what you're talking about," said Deidara.

"Right." Ino put down her fork and passed a hand over her face. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't expect to be so, so…"

She trailed off and took a generous sip of wine – her second glass that night; apparently, she needed it. "This is the first time I've seen Seigo since we broke up. So I guess I still have some – some anger to work through. That, coupled with the fact that I suspect he might be the one who wants to off my dad, well…"

Deidara toyed with the last ghost broccoli on his plate and said nothing.

"It still hurts me," said Ino, staring at nothing in particular. "That I wasn't enough for him. That, like so many rich men before him, there was – there was always some other acquisition to pursue. Some other woman . And, of course, he was everything I thought _I_ wanted. Ambitious, well-educated, a family almost as wealthy as mine, upper crust. And the jealousy thing, I thought it was because he loved me so very much, but I was wrong. Magnificently wrong. I was just an asset that he wanted sole ownership of. Meanwhile, he was out looking for more like me, because that kind of man, whatever they have is never enough. They're climbers. They want to own the world. That's the drive that makes them excel."

Ino glanced up to where Seigo sat, engrossed in conversation with his mother. "Look at him – entrepreneur of the year at twenty-eight, businessman of the year at thirty-five. He owns all the major telecoms corporations in the southern states, so now he's moving north into my father's territory. And I – I should've known I'd never have been enough for him. I should've known I was just a – a business venture, just one of many paths for him to acquire my father's company and…"

Ino took a long drink of wine, held her glass to her chest, and stared at her plate. "…Why am I telling you this?"

She could feel Deidara studying her – not with the disdain that had grown familiar now because every two words she said something too princessy – but with a look that was rather more thoughtful.

He shrugged. The thoughtfulness disappeared. "Two glasses of wine."

"That would do it."

The waiters came by and cleared the plates in a flurry of white-gloved hands. Ino agreed absently to whatever dessert they proposed to her. Deidara ordered another whiskey – his third or fourth, Ino had lost track, but she did give him a quelling look.

"So," said Deidara, blithely ignoring the look. "When are you gonna do your thing? Make him notice you're here and piss him off?"

"I'm rethinking it," said Ino. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea anymore…"

"…What?"

"What do you mean, what? You said yourself it wasn't a good idea. Did you not see how angry I just got? Just looking at him? That kind of…of emotional incontinence _never_ happens to me…"

"I thought it was a shit plan because I didn't know about this _baggage_ between you two," said Deidara. "But now I think it could actually work, now that you've explained and shown me that soul-owning stare thing. That was something else."

"I don't know…"

"Do it. Make him suffer." Deidara inclined his head towards Seigo's table. "He's _right there_. The guy who you are ninety percent sure put a hit out on your dad. You're seriously gonna pass this up?"

Ino took a breath. She looked up. Seigo was mid-rant, gesticulating at his mother while she ate her cream tortellini. He still hadn't noticed her – typical, really, he was always in his self-absorbed bubble – and he'd never have expected her _here_ of all places; she hated Italian…

"Yes," said Ino. "Okay. I'll do it. I'll just go to the ladies' room and – and make sure he notices me when I come back to the table…"

"Go," said Deidara. "Remind him what he lost."

"Right."

"And – you know – what I won," said Deidara with a wink.

Ino rolled her eyes as she rose from her chair, though she was also biting back a smile.

VVV

The break in the ladies' room permitted Ino to make some important adjustments: powder her nose, redo her lipstick, tweak at the bodice of her dress so that the amount of cleavage on display made the shift from classy to flirty…

 _Make him suffer_ , Deidara had said.

She liked that idea.

These final adjustments to her armour made, Ino looked at her beautiful self in the mirror, straightened her shoulders, and click-clacked her way to battle on stilettos of ice-white.

Ino had been careful to avoid Seigo's line of sight on the way to the bathroom by weaving around tables on the circumference of the restaurant. However, on the way back to Deidara, she chose a trajectory far more direct – one that carried her straight past the table that Seigo was sharing with his mother.

She didn't look down as she swayed past, but the dark windows reflected the restaurant's glowing interior and she saw Seigo's double-take, and then, to her intense satisfaction, the way his jaw clenched, and the way he whipped towards his mother.

"Phase one complete," said Ino as she seated herself across from Deidara.

Deidara too studied the reflection in the dark windows. "Ooh. Homeboy looks pissed. Is he crying to his mom?"

"Yes," said Ino. "Crying to his mom is one of his many charming idiosyncrasies. Now for phase two."

"What's phase two—oh."

Ino passed her heeled foot up Deidara's leg, and then back down, nice and slow, so that Seigo, if he glanced her way at any point during the next thirty seconds, couldn't miss it.

"So," said Ino, leaning forwards and putting her chin in her hands. "Now he's watching us. Pretend to be enrapturing me with tales of your magnificence."

"Uh…"

Ino toyed with one of her curls. "He can't hear us, so say anything. Talk about whatever. Just move your lips so he _thinks_ you're enrapturing me, and I'll take care of the rest…"

Deidara was blanking hard. Ino gave him a sweet smile for the benefit of any jealous exes watching, though her words weren't so sweet: "For fuck's sake, Deidara, don't freeze up on me now. Talk to me about the detonation velocity of nitroglycerin, for all I care…"

This was the trigger point required for Deidara to start talking, which he did. So Ino got an earful about the detonation velocity of nitroglycerin, and how it compared with that of other explosive substances – HMX, which, insofar as Ino understood, exploded with more boom, and experimental DDF, which hypothetically made bigger booms, or something, she wasn't really following, but she smiled and nodded and laughed like it was the best conversation she'd ever had in her life.

And she felt Seigo's angry stare and his mother's baleful glare and it made her radiate her loveliness even more.

"More about the RDX thing," said Ino, reaching for Deidara's hands. "But slower, you're getting too excited…"

"Right," said Deidara. "Gotta play it cool. It _is_ exciting to have someone care about what I'm saying. I mean, I know you're fake-listening but you're still the best listener I've ever had…"

Ino laughed (a genuine laugh; Seigo's glare intensified). "You poor thing, that's...actually kind of sad."

"Yeah, well, no one cares about the care that goes into my products – the thought, the _artistry_ – they only want the thing to go bang when they press the button. But there are different _kinds_ of bangs, you know, they can be fast and violent but live only for a millisecond – you blink and you miss it, but damn, the _potency_ …TATP and fulminates are like that, _so good_ …"

"Oh, yes, the fulminates," said Ino.

" _Or_ you can have these rolling blasts so slow they that they kinda blur that line between explosion and combustion. You ever heard of ANFO? Like, half the detonation velocity of nitro – it's more of a blasting agent, really, than a true explosive, but it's powerful shit – they use it to mine. You wanna bring down a whole building, you drop a couple dozen pounds of that shit in the underground parking, you splash on some diesel, you throw on a stick of dynamite (I like to go old-school), and you get the hell out of Dodge. _Boom._ And _then_ there's the fragmentation, which no one ever even cares about until I bring it up, like, do we want something tidy and contained and localized here, or are we trying to fuck up everything in a hundred-foot radius, 'cause I can do both…"

Deidara trailed off because Ino was walking the tips of her fingers between his gloved ones.

"Keep talking," said Ino, not looking up.

"Now you're distracting me," said Deidara.

"How is this distracting? I'm not even touching you…"

"I don't know. It just is," said Deidara, watching her delicate fingers weave their way around his and then walk up his knuckles.

"So tell me more about the H&M," prompted Ino.

"HMX."

"Yes, that."

"It's, like, literally a rocket propellant, and…"

Ino smirked as Deidara trailed off again. She ran her fingertips along the stitches that crisscrossed the back of his glove, glanced up, and said, "You know what? It's okay that you keep getting distracted by me – it's more realistic this way. I mean, this _would_ be distracting if we were on an actual date, wouldn't it?"

"I guess…?"

"I mean, I _am_ stupid hot, after all…"

Deidara looked like he wanted to glare at her but was restraining himself given that they had an audience. Instead, he covered her hand with his and squeezed out a warning. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

Ino pulled her hand out from under his and put it back on top. "Was there some kind of statute of limitations on that embargo, or…? I don't remember discussing one."

"Yeah. 'Cause it was implicit that it was _forever_ ," said Deidara, putting his hand on top of hers again.

Ino's attempt to replace her hand over his was denied; instead, Deidara interlocked his fingers with hers so that they shared a handful of warm leather.

"Forever's _such_ a long time." Ino tilted her head at Deidara. Her hair rippled down, flaxen-white in the soft light. "I have to wait that long to hear myself called stupid hot again?"

Deidara looked her up and down – the hair, the flirty head tilt, the smiling lips. And Ino's pulse ran a little faster at the sight of the admiration manifest in his eyes (he liked pretty things and she was so very pretty; how could he help himself, really?). And, though she tried to keep it veiled, there was a mutual admiration in hers. There was something about the way the top button of his shirt was undone so she could only just see the edge of his tattoos peeking through, something in the wild-boy hair paired with the sharp black suit, something about the slow smirk that made its way across his face. She liked pretty things, too, come to think of it…

Ino looked away. If you fake it too much, you might accidentally make it, you know? For a silly, wine-spurred moment there, she almost forgot that this wasn't real.

Leather creaked softly as Deidara squeezed her fingers between his. "You are stupid hot."

Ino beamed a smile and felt the anger of Seigo's stare.

She scooted her chair forwards so that her knees interlocked with Deidara's under the table just as snugly as their fingers did over it. "Tell me more. _Seduce_ me. Right in front of him. I want him to watch…"

Deidara glanced down, blinked, cleared his throat. "You're making it...hard to concentrate on talking."

"Am I?"

"Yeah."

Ino, who had wrapped a leg around one of his and was drawing her foot up and down his calf, giggled. "That's fine. You can stumble a bit – it'll make for a more natural exchange, you know…"

(In passing, she noted to herself that there really was something natural in this exchange, in the warm firmness of his leg against her shin, in their interlocked fingers of dark leather and fine porcelain…)

Ino mouthed a kiss to Deidara for Seigo's benefit. "I mean, maybe you _look_ like a fine little Casanova that I've found for myself, but really, you're shy…"

"I don't think I can do shy," said Deidara.

"No?"

"No."

One of his gloved hands was now on her knee.

Ino was pleased; she could feel Seigo's irritation buffing up against her in waves. She looked up at Deidara from beneath her lashes. "And where do you think you're going with that?"

"I didn't know I was going anywhere, actually," said Deidara.

"…Why do you look surprised?"

"You didn't flinch."

This was indeed a surprising discovery, now that it had been brought to Ino's attention. She sat quiet for a moment, waiting for her brain to supply an adequate reason to explain this development. "Well…maybe I'm not as afraid of you as I was."

"As if you were ever afraid of me."

"It's not something I'd admit easily," said Ino, twirling one of her diamond earrings flirtatiously under Seigo's stare. "Fear is for the weak."

"Or the smart, depending," said Deidara. "It's weird, though."

"What is?"

"Dunno. I thought knowing what was under the gloves would've…"

Deidara let the sentence hang unfinished. As for Ino, she had almost forgotten about what was under the gloves – he'd just had to remind her, hadn't he? Now she thought she felt, through the supple leather that caressed her thigh, the ridges of his scars. And part of her – that petty, shallow, unkind part that sometimes took up too much space – wanted to jerk her knee away and say, _get your gross hands away from me_.

But she didn't. She told herself that it was because Seigo was watching and he'd notice the movement and perhaps grow suspicious. Really, though, it was the spark of wonder that lingered in Deidara's eyes – obvious to Ino despite the casualness with which he made his remarks – that stilled her.

For reasons that weren't clear to her, it mattered to him that she hadn't flinched away. And, for reasons that were even less clear, she didn't say or do anything bruising in this moment of vulnerability. This was unusual for her; exposed vulnerabilities were easy targets and she went for them as a matter of course unless there were strategic reasons not to.

Sparks of wonder didn't qualify as strategic reasons.

Ino swept these disorderly thoughts aside and turned her attention to Deidara's hand. It passed back and forth along her thigh, matching the slow tempo of her game of footsie against his leg. "It doesn't hurt?"

"Nah," shrugged Deidara. "One of the benefits of extensive nerve damage…"

"How much can you even feel …?"

"Around the scars, not much. The rest is fine. Normal." There was a pause punctuated only by the slow back-and-forth of leather-clad hand on stockinged thigh. "These gloves are actually – actually pretty good. Thinner than my old ones. I can actually feel stuff _through_ them."

Ino tried not to look smug because he totally hadn't wanted the gloves and he'd totally argued with her for fifteen minutes about wearing them and she'd totally been right.

Then Deidara said, with only the slightest tone of grudging admission, "I could get used to them."

Ino couldn't hold back the smugness after that. "That's funny, because I _distinctly_ remember you saying–"

"I know what I said."

" _Well_ then, I—"

" _Don't_ say 'I told you so.'"

"But," sputtered Ino, "but that's my principal joy in life—"

Deidara cut her off for the third time in so many seconds. "Hey, uh…"

"What?"

"…Are you wearing thigh highs?"

Ino blinked hard at him and then glanced down: his fingertips were just under the hem of her dress. "Yes."

"Oh," said Deidara with an expression she'd seen before, that mouth-run-dry-and-might-not-be-breathing look…

His hand retreated to safer ground towards Ino's knee and his gaze searched the room as though seeking a distraction. It landed on Seigo, stewing a half-dozen tables over. "Buddy doesn't like me touching you. He's got that look like he's about to come start a fight. Am I getting into a fight with him over you?"

Ino shook her head. "He doesn't fight his own fights. Not physical ones, anyway. He _will_ get pissy enough to come and say something, though, if we just keep taunting him…It won't be long now – he'll be throwing a tantrum any minute…"

She moved her chair closer to Deidara's and resumed her game of footsie.

After a few minutes of this, interspersed with more fake small talk, Deidara cleared his throat.

"What…?"

"How do I say this politely?" said Deidara, looking at the ceiling.

"Say what?" asked Ino. "Since when do you care about being polite?"

"I know none of this is real, but…"

"But?"

"…If you keep rubbing your knee into my crotch like that, I'm gonna spring a hard-on that _is_."

Ino pulled back the offending leg and blushed a real blush. "Whoops – I'm sorry…"

"S'fine," said Deidara, staring dead-ahead.

Dessert arrived – a welcome distraction from the sudden awkwardness of fake flirting and real boners.

Ino spoon-fed Deidara chocolate mousse.

Deidara spoon-fed Ino whipped cream.

Seigo had a conniption in the corner.

" _So close_ ," whispered Ino. She inched in towards Deidara. "Okay, brace yourself – I'm about to give you the stare."

Deidara sat up straighter and seemed to steel himself. "I'm ready."

He _thought_ he was ready, which was cute, but he wasn't, really. He wasn't ready for Ino's sweet sigh, for her graceful lean forwards, for the way she looked up at him with those wintry eyes that held the stories of her love for him in their frozen eternities.

He wasn't ready for the way she scooped up his hand in both of hers and pulled it to her chest and beamed a smile at him almost too bright to look at. Nor was he ready for the beauty of the moment when she lowered her face and kissed his gloved fingers and mouthed, _I'm yours_. (She saw the precise moment when he lost a bit of himself to her, then: the hapless swallow, the dazed blink.)

Then there was movement in the periphery of her vision. Seigo had jumped to his feet.

It was more than he could bear, to witness this.


	9. Chapter 9

"Ino, _darling_."

Though his voice was steady, Seigo's nostrils were pinched and his jaw was clenched. He was seething. _Perfect_.

"Oh, hello Seigo," said Ino in the absent way one might greet a passing acquaintance before returning to one's engrossing conversation with one's lover.

Seigo came to a halt next to the table just on the threshold of an impolitely close distance to Ino. "You look well."

"Thank you," said Ino with the briefest glance up at him, before her attention was riveted back to Deidara.

At this point, Seigo might as well have stopped existing. Ino proceeded to lose herself in Deidara's blue eyes like a thing mesmerized – a fledgling catching its first sight of open sky.

Seigo would not, of course, be so easily dismissed. He edged in closer to the table so that the bottom of his suit jacket touched the tablecloth. "I'm surprised to find you here, darling…"

"Mm?" Ino blinked and looked up as though surprised to find Seigo still there.

"…Here on a Sunday night, no less."

Ino raised her fine-boned shoulders into a shrug. "It was the only decent place with a free table tonight. Our plans were a little last-minute…"

"Ah."

"I hope my being here didn't bother you _too_ much," said Ino, releasing Deidara's hand to press her fingertips to her collarbone and act out some beautiful fake-caring.

"On the contrary," said Seigo through his tight jaw, "I was glad to see you enjoying yourself with – with this gentleman. I don't think we've met, Mr…?"

"Deidara," said Deidara.

He held out his hand. Seigo stared at it. Ino had been wondering how long this forced civility would last – how long before Seigo's self-control lost the fight with his ego.

The answer was now.

"You've found yourself a man with _interesting_ manners, haven't you, Ino?" said Seigo, still staring at Deidara's proffered hand. "Good breeding would suggest removing one's gloves before offering to shake. But perhaps he is too cold?"

"Actually, he—" began Ino, some lie about eczema or whatever at the ready.

"Sure," interrupted Deidara. There was a spark of something dangerous in his eye.

He loosened the glove, finger by finger. Then he pulled it off and extended his hand to Seigo again – this time in all of its butchered glory. The white and red of the scarred-up tissue caught the light, flashing that hideous grin across his palm.

If Seigo had hoped to discomfit or otherwise insult Deidara, he had failed. Instead, he was the one who balked.

"Wouldn't good breeding suggest shaking now…?" asked Ino with a hint of reproach, enough to inform Seigo that he was the one making a faux-pas, now.

Seigo stared at the gaping scar and looked progressively more repelled. And Ino knew that her own reaction to that sight had been much the same, and therefore improper and uncouth for someone who prided herself on being elegant, well-bred, and sophisticated…

It struck Ino in that moment that she had amends to make on that front, and that she could, perhaps, begin to make them right now. And so, in a move that cost her a significant degree of courage, she reached across the table and ran her fingers over Deidara's palm. "Scars aren't contagious, you know …"

Deidara's leg twitched against hers under the table. He hadn't expected this. Under Ino's fingertips ran ridges and furrows of melted flesh. Not as horrid a feeling as she might've thought, only rough – rough and saddening.

"Of course they aren't," snapped Seigo. Still he made no move to shake; instead, he plucked Deidara's glove off the table and tossed it to him. "That doesn't mean _I_ want to touch them. Put this back on; no one needs to see that mess. Give a man a warning, next time—"

"Weak stomach. I understand," said Deidara with such condescension that Ino would've bitten off his head had it been directed at her. But it wasn't: it was directed at Seigo, whose initial anger was now supplemented by embarrassment.

Under the table, Ino's foot ran up Deidara's leg in approval.

Predictably, the embarrassed Seigo attempted to turn the tables the best way he knew how. "So… _Deidara_. We mustn't move in the same circles. What industry are you in?"

"Explosives," said Deidara as he pulled the glove back on.

"Oh? And who do you own – any companies I'd know?"

"I don't own," said Deidara. "I'm more of an…independent contractor."

"I see," said Seigo, looking down his nose at Deidara. "So, you're more hands-on in terms of your work."

"Uh, yeah. You think I got these scars by jacking the day away at a desk job?"

Seigo sniffed at the crudeness. "A blue-collar boy, then."

"You could say that."

"How _interesting_ ," said Seigo, looking between Deidara and Ino. "I thought you must've been something more than that to have so captured Ino's affections…She _is_ so hard to please…"

" _So_ hard to please," repeated Ino, though with considerably more ice. "They're rarer than I thought, men who can manage the bare minimum of fidelity."

Seigo turned his attention back to Ino. "So, you've found yourself one of those rarities, have you, darling? _This_ man?"

"Yes."

"Funny. You talk of _fidelity_ and yet, here we are – what, five months? – after our unfortunate separation, and you're declaring your…your _undying_ _love_ to another man right in front of your fiancé?"

"Six months," corrected Ino. " _Former_ fiancé. And at least I had the decency to wait until we'd broken up before moving on with someone else."

Seigo looked towards the ceiling in a long-suffering way. "She was just a mistake."

"Yes, she was. And as for my _undying love,_ " Ino said, interlocking her fingers with Deidara's, "Deidara deserves it more than you ever did. I belong with him – _to_ him, almost; it's the most wonderful thing. I've never been this happy…"

Seigo's fingers twitched into a weak fist and Ino knew that she had struck gold with that particular stream of gushing. She beamed glowing joyful love at Deidara and squeezed his hand between both of hers.

A passing waiter found his arm snatched by Seigo: "A chair, please. I must join my friends for a moment. See that my mother gets her cappuccino and tell her I'll be with her in an instant."

A chair was found. Seigo sat much closer to Ino than necessary.

Deidara played with a table knife and, somehow, it looked dangerous between his leather-clad fingers.

"I know what you're trying to do, Ino," said Seigo to Ino in a whisper. "You aren't as subtle as you think you are."

Ino made fleeting eye contact with Deidara and she saw his thought: _careful_. And she agreed. If this was indeed the rich idiot who had put out a contract on her father's head, he could just as easily put one out on hers, if he knew that she knew…

"And what am I trying to do, Seigo _dear?_ " asked Ino, putting her chin on her hand and bringing her face close to Seigo's.

"You're trying to make me jealous—"

Ino parted her lips in feigned surprise. "Am I?"

"—by bringing this little boy toy of yours here and taunting me with him. You think I don't see how you lined this all up? Found yourself a man who's everything I'm not? A fair-haired pretty boy? Hm? With his pretty blue eyes? Who works with his hands? With _scars_? Women _like_ scars, don't they?"

Ino bit her lip. She hadn't actually lined any of those opposites up – those things were all happenstance – but now that Seigo laid it out this way, she could see why he'd think she had.

"And you show up here on a Sunday night when you _know_ I'll be here, and you – you make love to him, right in front of me?" Seigo leaned back and held his hands wide. "Well, it worked. Congratulations. I'm jealous."

"Seigo, we're just having dinner—"

"I want you back," said Seigo. "I've wanted you back since...since everything happened. So now what?"

"You can't have me _back –_ I'm not some possession—"

Seigo wasn't even listening to her. He waved towards Deidara. "Let's ditch this loser and get out of here. My place. We can talk."

Deidara's leg tensed against Ino's under the table. She gave him a warning look. This was not the time for him to pretend to be an offended boyfriend; she had Seigo right where she needed him, jealous and wanting her.

"He's not a loser," said Ino. "He's—"

"He's a nobody," cut in Seigo with a dismissive gesture. "How are we even having this discussion? My net worth is _literally_ several billion times his."

"That doesn't matter to me anymore," said Ino. "It used to. But my experience with _you_ cured me of that."

Seigo put his hand on Ino's forearm. "You're being both silly and stubborn, darling. Be honest with yourself and think. There's nothing in the world that this, this _Deidara_ , or whatever his name is, can give you that I can't."

Ino jerked her arm away. "How about happiness?"

"Happiness."

"And how about love and trust and other intangible things that you and your _money_ can't buy?"

Seigo blinked at her. "Since when does that kind of sentimental bullshit matter to you?"

"Since I found it for myself," said Ino, "with _him_. But I suppose I'm wasting my breath. I shouldn't expect you, of all people, to even begin to understand these things…"

"I could learn," said Seigo, leaning in towards her. "If you did…"

Ino recoiled from him. "No. All you ever saw in me, and all you see in me now, is _opportunity_ – for a perfect wife and a perfect merger."

"Yes. You _are_ perfect for both those things. Why can't I have them both?" Seigo turned to Deidara as if expecting him – Ino's ostensible lover – to agree that, yeah, he wasn't asking for that much here.

"How can you even—?! You all but told me you only wanted me for the...for the _prestige_ of netting a woman like me for a wife, and because I opened doors to Yamanaka, Inc.! And then – because you're an utter imbecile – you _cheated_ on me! As if I'd _ever_ go back to you!"

"She was a _mistake_ ," said Seigo. "How many times to I have to tell you? She's gone. I fired her. I don't give a shit about her. If you hadn't been so thin-skinned about _her_ , we'd still be together, married by now, and I'd have—"

"She's a mistake I'm _so_ glad you made," cut in Ino with a shake of her splendid hair.

"Listen, Ino, you gorgeous thing, you'd make everything so much smoother," said Seigo in his most coaxing tones. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. "Telwave's take-over—"

Ino shrugged off his arm brusquely. "Take-over? I thought it was a _merger_."

"Semantics, darling. We'll call it a merger, if you prefer that. You'd make everything perfect, and with so many beautiful benefits, of course. Having you as my wife – your beauty, your brains – would be a dream. Just think: I could make you my General Counsel, and you could name your salary, obviously, but whatever's mine would be yours anyway…We'd work together every day—"

"Keep dreaming."

Seigo was fazed by her curtness; money made all his _other_ problems go away. However, unhappily for him, he was attempting to negotiate with a woman who had a fortune of her own and was set to inherit far more than what he had to offer.

"I want you by my side," said Seigo. "I do. But I won't beg."

"Then don't. Leave."

Again, Seigo waved her words away. "The truth is, I don't _need_ you. You're a nice to have – a _wonderful_ to have. But I can achieve what I want to achieve in other ways."

Ino raised an eyebrow in a gentle taunt. Now, perhaps, they were getting somewhere. "Can you?"

"I can buy Yamanaka, Inc. twice over, at this stage."

"You think my father would sell to _you_? After what you did to me?" Ino gave Seigo a once-over so cold he might've developed frostbite from it if her eyes had lingered longer. "Over his dead body."

Ino's choice of metaphor didn't elicit a blink or the slightest twitch in Seigo's composure. And he wasn't adept at masking his feelings, especially not in as heightened a state as he was right now, fighting for her favour while her new man sat across from him, looking pretty and murderous all at once.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Seigo. "I'll whittle away at his shareholders, bit by bit."

"My father owns the majority stake."

"I know he does. But once I own everything else, I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."

"What kind of offer?"

"Enough cash that he won't be able to say no," said Seigo. He shrugged. "He's a good businessman, Inoichi. Nearing retirement age. He'll know when it's time to bow out. He can go buy another villa in Sicily or an island in the Aegean or whatever and have a good few years…"

"He'd _never_ sell to you."

"He'll sell to the highest bidder. Which _will_ be me." Seigo put a hand on Ino's thigh. "Only, this then becomes a long-term project. See, with you by my side – with your blessing – your father would sell that much faster. You'd help me _advance_ this at ten times the pace. Between Telwave and Yamanaka, Inc., we'd own eighty percent of the telecoms in the US. We'd be behemoths – unstoppable. And in the meantime we'd be together…"

"No." Ino lifted his hand off her thigh with two fingers around his wrist, like she was disengaging her leg from something disgusting.

"Just think about it. Think about me versus this guy here," said Seigo with a wave to Deidara. "This explosives technician, or whatever he is, who is so shit at his job he barely has hands left…"

Deidara, who had been simmering in silence for most of the conversation, fell into a full-on fume. His jaw was tight; the table knife twirled faster between his fingers.

"I can make you happy," said Seigo, carelessly ignoring this warning sign.

" _He_ makes me happy," said Ino.

"I can make you _happier_." Seigo pushed his chair back. "Just think about it. I must go back to Mother; she'll be so glad to hear we're back on good terms…"

"We aren't on good terms—"

"We'll see each other soon, darling," said Seigo. He leaned in, apparently with every intention of kissing Ino, until a hand gripped his collar and pulled him back into his chair.

Deidara's glare was blue fire so hot that even Ino found herself cowed by it.

"How dare—" began Seigo, before he was cut off by Deidara pulling him in close – and half-strangling him.

"Shh. Just listen," said Deidara in a low voice. "I can handle you coming here and interrupting my goddamn dinner. I can handle you throwing a hissy fit because she's found someone else and you can't buy her back—"

Seigo squirmed; Deidara's fist held him in place. "I can handle you insulting me. I can handle you trying to get your hands on her for the last fifteen minutes 'cause I can see how much you miss her. I'm willing to be the bigger man…but you just crossed the line."

Seigo attempted to sputter out something indignant, but Deidara's brisk shake jostled him into silence. "Shh. Listen, buddy. Listen. I want you to know something. Are you listening?"

Almost choking now, Seigo nodded. Deidara leaned in closer and searched his eyes. "If you try to kiss her again, I promise there's no money in the world that could fix the things I'll do to you. You understand?"

"Yes," wheezed Seigo.

"Good." Deidara released his hold. "Now get the fuck out of here."

Ino had never seen Seigo so subdued, so frightened. He rose, readjusted his collar, and left for his own table without another word.

Deidara watched him go with those blazing eyes and a clenched fist that told of still-smoldering anger.

And Ino stared at her wineglass and hoped Deidara wouldn't notice that she had goosebumps.


	10. Chapter 10

Seigo and his mother didn't linger long at the restaurant after that. Whether his mother – or anyone else – had seen what had transpired in the last few minutes wasn't clear to Ino because, though heavy with threat, Deidara's actions had been quiet and restrained.

In any case, none of the surrounding diners were giving her or Deidara a second look and the waiter who dropped off the bill didn't ask them to leave, so Ino surmised (and hoped) that the unpleasant exchange had gone unnoticed. That would be the best case scenario for Seigo and his wounded pride, and therefore for her and Deidara.

The fire in Deidara's eyes abated a little. Ino's goosebumps subsided and she finished her wine with her composed façade firmly in place.

"That's not a man I would've made an enemy of, myself," said Ino conversationally.

Really, she wanted to scream, _what the hell was that, are you out of your mind?_

Deidara stared at the door through which Seigo and his mother had exited. "I'm gonna blow him up."

"Please don't."

"Fine. Just his house, then."

" _Don't._ "

"Fine. His car. His _cars_. He must have lots of cars. I'll blow up his whole collection. Does he have a jet or a helicopter or some shit?"

"See this?" said Ino, twirling her index finger in Deidara's direction. "This is why you spent the best years of your life in jail. You can't just blow things up when they piss you off."

"I can and I do," said Deidara.

His blood was still up, that much was clear. Ino decided that further conversation on this matter would not be fruitful at this time. She signed the bill and stood up.

"Where're you going?"

"Home," said Ino, slipping her purse over her shoulder. "We can continue this discussion there."

"Why there? They have killer whiskey here," said Deidara. He demonstrated his appreciation of said whiskey by downing the remainder of his glass in two swallows.

"So I can bite off your head properly without anyone watching," said Ino.

Deidara was not remotely daunted by this threat. He dropped his glass onto the table. "Let's go."

VVV

Both Ino and Deidara were able to maintain a semblance of civility all the way back to her condo. Deidara even offered her his arm on the walk home, though Ino suspected it was because otherwise he might be weaving a little as he walked more than out of solicitude for her and her heels.

The civil pretense was dropped as soon as Ino clicked the front door shut behind them.

"So," she said, turning to Deidara, "are you _actually_ insane?"

Deidara wrestled off his suit jacket with such vigour it made the exercise twice as complicated. "Probably. Look at this, I'm in a goddamn straitjacket and everything..."

Ino jabbed her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. "What _was_ that back there? You just antagonized one of the most powerful men in New York _for no reason._ "

"No reason?" repeated Deidara. "You wanted him pissy and jealous, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Now he's pissy and jealous. You're _welcome_."

Deidara's tone was so self-righteous that Ino struggled to not shriek out her next words. "But you didn't need to _manhandle_ him!"

"Uh, yeah I did." Deidara looked at Ino like she was being thick.

" _Why_?"

"Because this was supposed to be _convincing_. What the hell kind of guy would just sit there while his girl's ex comes by and tries to _kiss_ her?"

"The kind _you_ were supposed to be," said Ino.

"Right. I was just supposed to _sit there_ while he put his hands all over you and got all up in your face and treated you like you were a _thing_ he could just buy back—"

" _Yes._ That is _exactly_ what you were supposed to do. Seigo's behaviour was none of your concern. We were just gathering some intelligence, that's _all_."

"—and," continued Deidara, "not only does he come around like you're this possession he lost by accident, all _it was a mistake, come back to me baby_ , but then he swoops in for a lil fuckin' smooch? I mean, no boyfriend in the world just sits there and watches another man do that. That guy was an asshole, and I needed to teach him a goddamn lesson because you're not _his_ to _kiss."_

Ino heaved out a sound of exasperation as she took off her shoes. "Teach him a lesson? You weren't supposed to do anything! You were just a _prop!_ "

"A prop."

"Yes," said Ino, shaking one of her heels at Deidara to punctuate her speech. "Just. A. Prop. Just like I was a prop for you when you went fishing for information with Teruo. I was your dumb pretty prostitute and tonight you were supposed to be my dumb pretty boyfriend. You'll notice _I_ didn't try to strangle Teruo – though I wanted to squeeze information about this goddamned _little prince_ out of his fat neck – because _I_ can keep an actual _lid_ on my emotions!"

Deidara swatted away the stiletto that was being waved in his face. "So you're so _uptight_ you can't even let go when your dad's life is on the line? _Wow_ , do you want my congratulations, or…?"

"It's _because_ his life is on the line that I kept a lid on it!" spat Ino. "Because I won't do anything that could jeopardize him! Obviously _you've_ never had someone so important to you so close to death or you'd understand…!"

Deidara regarded her in open-mouthed silence for a moment. Then, as though recollecting himself, he took a step back and said, "You're right. I have no idea what that's like."

" _Great_ , so how about you—"

"But if I'm supposed to be your stupid boyfriend then I'll act like a stupid boyfriend would, which includes _not_ letting other guys schmooze up my girl when I'm right fucking there."

Deidara paused to struggle with the top button of his shirt, which was by all appearances giving him whiskey-induced difficulties.

"There was no need to be so, so," Ino struggled to find the word, " _protective_ of me. I was handling it _fine_ —"

"And I _did_ keep a lid on it," said Deidara, giving up on the top button and trying the second, "because if that date had been _real_ , I would've broken his jaw the minute he tried to put his arm around you, the little fuck. Why are you defending him so much? Don't tell me you still have feelings for that asshole."

Ino straightened up and said, "I can assure you that I _don't._ "

"Then what's the fucking problem?"

"The _problem_ is that I didn't want Seigo to take any more notice of you. We were _done_. I got the information I wanted. But now you've gone and made yourself _memorable_ to him."

"Good," said Deidara. "I hope he remembers me next time he comes sniffing around you…"

"It's _not_ good," said Ino, pulling the pins out of her hair. "Do you have any idea how much trouble a man like that could put you in?"

"It's a good thing I have Ms. Ino Fuckin' Yamanaka as my lawyer, then, isn't it?"

Ino jabbed a hairpin in Deidara's direction. "You are being _way_ too flippant about this. Do you know what Seigo is doing right now? He's got twelve analysts on your case and he's going to dig up all the nastiest dirt he can find on you…God, why'd you give him your real name..."

"So what if he digs up dirt?"

"He basically has access – or can buy access – to any written record, anywhere. He'll find out _everything_ you've ever done…"

Deidara shrugged. "Don't care. I have nothing to hide. All the shit I've done is on the public record, anyway."

His insouciance almost drove Ino wild. "Oh my god, how are you so – so _lackadaisical_ about this?" She ran her hands through her hair and took a breath. "Okay, okay, so you don't care what he could do to you. But he'll figure that out. And if he can't hurt you directly, then he'll find other ways. It'll be through someone else. Is there no one close to you? No one you care about?"

"...No," said Deidara, and Ino, searching his eyes, knew that that wasn't true.

"Seigo is dangerous. Not in the way you are, like he's going to blow up your shit, but in subtler ways. He's clever, he's rich; he has resources beyond your imagining…"

"He can't hurt me," said Deidara. "And if I hadn't roughed him up a bit today – I didn't even hurt him, Jesus – he would've known something was up."

"You could've just _said_ something, you didn't need to _choke_ him," said Ino.

"Maybe if he hadn't been the most annoying, smarmy bastard that ever existed..."

"You can't just beat people up when they annoy you."

"You can't tell me to pose as your boyfriend and endure that kind of _disrespect._ "

"You can't slap around someone like Seigo without thinking of the consequences for the both of us!"

"You can't lecture me about my temper when you're so _cold_ you don't even _blink_ when your father's _life_ is on the line!"

"Don't tell me how to feel!"

"You don't even feel!"

"I promise you I do, just because I don't _blow up_ everyone I don't like–"

"No, you just—"

"No, _you_ just—"

"How can you—"

"You don't—"

"You—"

Tempers flared, chests heaved, lips parted for air, ready to hiss out a retort to whatever heated words might come next. Ino didn't know how she'd gotten so close to Deidara; perhaps she had taken a step towards him with every angry dig, or perhaps he had, and now they stood inches apart, glaring at each other, having interrupted themselves into a stalemate.

Each waited for the other to spit out the next jab. But, after a moment punctuated only by staccato gasps that they could feel the heat of on each other's mouths, it became clear that words weren't what would follow if they kept standing here like this with their tempers alight and their eyes ablaze and their chests touching with every breath…

Deidara's glare was the blue heat of a summer sky and Ino found herself reeling as she stared into it with a slow, inexorable vertigo, like she was standing at the edge of a cliff and all there was in front of her was this wide, wide firmament, and it was familiar somehow, this feeling, this wanting to fall…

That feeling – that _wanting_ it – frightened Ino into her senses. She blinked and stepped back and looked anywhere but at Deidara, trying to recover her poise and dissipate the flush that she knew now bloomed on her cheeks.

And Deidara tore his eyes away from her with a painful kind of deliberation and swallowed.

Ino cleared her throat and examined her nails.

Deidara reached for his neck and worked at his buttons again, not only because he wanted the shirt off, but because he was now hot under the collar in the literal sense.

He continued to fail wretchedly at this endeavor, so Ino latched onto it as a distraction from this new tension that thickened the air and made it difficult to look at him. "For Christ's sake, _will_ you figure out how to unbutton that shirt?"

Deidara seemed to welcome the distraction of another squabble just as much as she did. " _You_ try doing this with gloves, goddamn…"

"Pathetic," said Ino, though the unkind word was mitigated by the fact that she approached and reached for his neck.

"These buttons are slippery little fucks," said Deidara with a glower as Ino worked her way down. "And I'm _drunk._ "

Ino tutted and tugged the bottom of his shirt out from his trousers to undo the last few buttons there.

"I think I can manage now, _thank you,_ " said Deidara.

Ino backed off, bit back a smile, watched him shrug off the shirt, and said nothing until he got stuck at the wrists. "Cufflinks."

Deidara snarled out something vulgar and looked just about ready to tear the shirt off using his teeth. "Are you _serious_?!"

Ino couldn't hold back her laughter as he pulled the sleeves back on partially and proceeded to suck at removing cufflinks.

She stepped in when his frustration took over and he pulled at the shirt with enough violence to tear it. " _Don't_ rip it."

"Get this thing off me or I'll…!"

"You'll what? Blow up the shirt? Blow up my condo? Blow up the whole world?"

"...Something like that," said Deidara.

Ino pulled one of his wrists towards her and muttered something about absurd overreactions. Deidara muttered something about _perfectly justified_ reactions and leaned in to watch. Under Ino's cool fingers, the cufflinks opened with soft, obedient clicks – first the right, then the left.

They clinked together in Ino's palm as she held them out to Deidara. "There. Not worth exploding the planet, really. Shall I show you how to do it, so you can be less of an idiot next time?"

Deidara glared at her, which she took as a yes.

"Open," said Ino, snapping one of the cufflinks open, "and closed. You need to twist it a bit. And maybe not fight with it like you're wrestling a – a bear, or something..."

"Not wrestling a bear, right, good tip," said Deidara. He whipped the shirt off, peeled off his undershirt, and shook out his hair. "Finally. _Free._ "

Ino watched the inked-up tousle-headed wild man undressing in her living room and wondered what the hell was going on in her life.

" _Free?_ " she repeated when Deidara caught her staring. "Pff, it wasn't _that_ bad. You're a guy. You don't have to wear a bra or spanx or garter belts or—"

"Garter belts?" asked Deidara, looking Ino up and down with a sudden fierce interest. "Are _you_ wearing a garter belt?"

"…Why?"

"Nothing, never mind."

"Right," nodded Ino, recalling his fixation on the fishnets and his reaction to the thigh highs. "You have a thing for pantyhose..."

Deidara's cheeks grew pink. "I do _not._ "

"You _so_ do," laughed Ino. "Look at you, you're blushing."

"I'm not blushing – I just – I just had an intense fight with some cufflinks…"

Ino dropped the cufflinks into his hands. "Right. Don't lose them – they're Versace. And you are _such_ a liar."

"I'm _not_."

"Everyone has a thing," said Ino with an airy gesture to the world at large. "Yours is pretty tame, honestly…"

"It's _not_ a thing. I don't have a thing," said Deidara. Then, with almost wary curiosity, he asked, "What's your thing?"

"As if I'm going to be honest with you when you're not being honest with me."

Ino swayed her way into her bedroom and left Deidara to his cufflinks and his weak excuses.

"I _don't_ have a thing," repeated Deidara as she walked away.

"Oh, well. I was going to ask you to help unzip my dress," called Ino from her walk-in closet, "but I mean, what's the point if you don't have a thing…"

_Three…two…one…_

Right on cue, Deidara's head popped into the closet. "What did you just say?"

"That I need help unzipping my dress, but if you don't care about tights after all—"

"I can help," said Deidara.

"Oh?"

"I mean, you helped me just now, so, like, I owe you a hand..."

Ino turned her back to him to hide her smirk and pulled her curling mass of hair out of the way. "Of course. How kind of you."

She felt Deidara's gloved fingertips fumble at the nape of her neck, unable to undo the tiny clasp there. He turned his attention to the zipper instead and it too eluded him.

He huffed out a sound of aggravation. "Why's everything so _tiny…_ And why'd I drink so much?"

"Take your time," said Ino, holding back a laugh.

Deidara growled out something frustrated. There was a pause, then the sound of leather gloves being pulled off. Ino's ears perked when she heard them hit the floor. This was an interesting development. He hadn't bothered to lose the gloves when wrestling with his own clothing a few minutes prior, but now…

His fingertips were at her neck again, only now they were warmer because it was his skin she felt on hers. Feather-light were the touches that lingered as he found the clasp again; feather-light were the breaths she felt at her nape.

Both were full of hesitation too acute for Ino to abide in silence.

"You can touch me, you know," she said, glancing back at him. Then, because that sounded too much like a general invitation for all kinds of touching, she added, "I mean, we've established that I'm not going to flinch."

Her comment did nothing to ease the hesitation in the fingers that couldn't quite grasp the clasp without touching her. "…It's still weird to me."

"Weird...?"

"I saw you – I _felt_ you recoil the first time you saw." There was a pause. "I can still hear that gasp of yours. The horror in it. Like you'd just discovered that I was some kind of monster or something…"

Ino couldn't deny those things, of course. He'd witnessed her reaction firsthand; he'd felt her jerk back against him, appalled. She had recoiled just like Seigo had recoiled because it was horrifying to see someone's split-open scarred-up hand unexpectedly like that. (Ino told herself that the similarities ended there: unlike Seigo, she hadn't been openly disgusted after the initial shock. Unlike Seigo, she hadn't been cruel.)

But Deidara was right, there _was_ something weird about this. Because between her first reaction and now, there was a disconnect. A few days ago, his touch would've made her skin crawl. And now here she was, repressing a pleasant little shiver that didn't bear thinking about.

Yes. Things had changed. Things were...different _._ She didn't have the inclination to explore the hows and whys at the moment.

Ino turned just enough to show Deidara her profile. Her diamond earrings glittered among her curls, frost at midnight. "If I still felt that way, do you think I'd be letting you do this?"

Deidara did not respond, and so Ino knew that she had made her point.

"Now you're the one flinching from touching _me_ ," she said, facing forwards again. "I'm starting to get offended."

A sharp exhale of amusement greeted this remark. "Well, I'd hate to offend you."

Ino laughed and said she'd never heard a more blatant lie in her life.

So his touch grew less hesitant and, finally, he undid the clasp at the top of her dress. Ino squared her shoulders, expecting him to yank the dress open with his usual impetuousness.

Deidara proceeded to throw her off entirely by being slow and careful. Increment by minute increment, he lowered the zipper, like he was opening a delicate gift or unveiling a sculpture beyond price. And it was strange, but Ino had never felt so cherished by a man as in that moment when Deidara unzipped her dress with such aching slowness it didn't make a sound, there in the shadows of her closet where a thousand silk dresses muffled away the world.

And what were they doing, exactly? Ino didn't know; it had been a joke, inviting him in to help her, or (perhaps she could admit it to herself this one time) _maybe_ it had been flirting... But if it was, it was off-the-cuff, dumb, non-serious flirting that wasn't supposed to lead anywhere except maybe embarrass him about that stupid pantyhose thing. Certainly it was not supposed to lead to this, this head rush, this uptick in her pulse, this blush that burned as she felt her dress split open and his fingers brush the small of her back.

He couldn't see any of that, thank goodness. Thank goodness for the darkness that hid her rosy cheeks and for the muffling effect of the clothes around them so he wouldn't hear her breathing speed up…

…Or the little gasp she gasped when she felt him draw his fingertips along her shoulder blade with the same slow pace as when he'd undone the zipper.

She turned to give him a look that was half reprimand, for having surprised her, and half curiosity, because why...?

He barely noticed the look; in the darkness behind her she saw the face of a man lost in wonder, his eyes darkened to a marvelling midnight blue as though he touched some priceless work of art – this canvas of pale skin, this moonlight made flesh, this living porcelain doll.

"How are you so…" breathed Deidara.

She felt the warmth of a rough fingertip drawing repetitive shapes in the small of her back – circles, she thought at first, until she realized they were the endless loops of an infinity symbol.

Again he spoke, so quietly it was almost a sigh: "…So soft and flawless – it's like – it kills me..."

Ino did not know what kind of answer to give him. She faced forwards again and bit her lip.

His fingers made their way up her spine, hopped politely over her bra strap, and found that place at the base of her neck again.

Then, with a thrill of unexpected shivers, she felt his breath in her ear.

"Sorry. Poor – poor impulse control…" Deidara lurched into her from behind. "I'm pretty drunk."

"Yes, you are," said Ino in a whisper. (His being that close to her had made her voice vanish entirely; what new strangeness was this?)

"I should leave before I do something stupid. _Stupider_ …"

Ino swallowed. "If you – if you say so."

In answering him, she had turned a little. One of her curls escaped the thick twist over her shoulder and danced down her back. Deidara's knuckles skimmed her shoulder as he grasped it. Then there was a gentle pull as he ran his hand down the flaxen strand and let it bounce back into its curl.

Again she felt his breath, this time a little lower, against the side of her neck. "Why's – why's everything about you so…so…"

The sentence fell unfinished. In another time, Ino might've supplied her own adjectives with glee – beautiful? Amazing? _Stupendous_? – but she found herself curious, wildly curious, about what he wanted to say but didn't.

"So…what?"

There was a pause before he answered. "So goddamn _perfect_."

The words and the warmth of the breath that spoke them made Ino flush for the twelfth time that evening. It was that 'stupid hot' text message all over again, that pained honesty, that bluntness with no ulterior motive – no flattery for the sake of flattery, just the truth as he saw it and so the truth as he spoke in this whiskey-flavoured whisper against her neck.

And those three words, so unexceptional in and of themselves but uttered with such frankness, meant more to her at that moment than all of Seigo's extravagant compliments combined.

Deidara leaned his forehead on her bare shoulder. His loose hair tickled its way down her back.

"Dunno what you did to me tonight," he said in a voice so low he might've been talking to himself. "That – that soul-staring thing that you said was gonna make him jealous 'cause I'd have you more than he ever did…It worked the other way around, didn't it? It was a way for you to own _mine_ , and you do now. You took a piece of it, damn you…I never should've looked..."

Some part of Ino revelled in these inebriated suppositions, in this muttered admission spoken in warm puffs of breath against her neck that she had a little piece of him now, this too-cool-for-school, anti-establishment, rebellious ex-convict who wanted to hate her so much, but didn't. The idea delighted her; it was like owning a bit of something wild.

These thoughts she kept to herself. Out loud she said, "You're exaggerating dreadfully."

Deidara took in a shuddery breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably am." He raised his head from her shoulder. "I'm gonna go."

Ino felt him give her errant curl one last touch. Then he turned and exited the closet with the same kind of pained, torn-away deliberation that had marked his movements earlier, when she'd been glaring at him flushed and breathless and they'd been so, so close to doing something so, so stupid...

When he'd gone, Ino tugged her dress off feeling equal parts amused and bemused. The dumb pantyhose thing had been the whole point of this interlude in the closet, and now Deidara had by all appearances tipsily forgotten about it and drifted off.

She stepped out of the dress.

There came the sound of a throat being cleared: Deidara was silhouetted in the doorway.

He eyed her and her thigh highs up and down. "Fine. I have a _thing_ for pantyhose."

Ino, delighted to have been right, laughed. "I _knew_ it!"

"...But only on you," said Deidara.

He walked away.

Ino's delight turned to a blush. Point to Deidara; there wasn't really an elegant way to get the last word in, after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


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